Losing Hope
by Chick Feed
Summary: Multi-chap case fic. Dean recognises the township's serial killer for what he is, a werewolf. Easy peezy lemon squeezy! Sam's not too happy, but Dean's already taken the case so it's back into Hunter mode for the brothers Winchester. There's a whole town and a kinda cool hotel that need saving - Rated 'T' for story appropriate cussing, adult themes and, some descriptions.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : I own nothing, I earn nothing. Huh. Why do I do this? ;p

**Loosing Hope  
**_Dean recognises the township's serial killer for what  
__he is, a werewolf. Easy peezy lemon squeezy! Sam's  
__not too happy, but Dean's already taken the case so it's  
__back into Hunter mode for the brothers Winchester.  
__There's a whole town and a kinda cool hotel that need saving.  
_-oOo-

Prologue

Hope was a runner. Not the sprinter or marathon type of runner, she was the worrying kind, the kind that repeatedly ran away, the kind that the authorities so far had failed to keep hold of, to keep safe. Her most recent foster care placement had been her 'last chance', and she had blown it. So she had finally been placed with a 'special' foster carer where she was to remain until a vacancy within a secure young people's unit became available. Hope, however, hadn't felt like going along with the child services' plans for her and so she was now running again, after discovering that the special foster carer's locked front door was just as easy to open from the inside as your average foster carers' locked front doors had been.

Hope was just fifteen. She had only entered the care system fourteen months previous, after both her parents were killed in a five car smash. Hope knew what it was like to have and to live with her own family, to be cared about and loved, and she desperately wanted that family back. She had no interest in what she viewed as some poor facsimile made up of do good strangers. She resented having to get herself into trouble, just to gain some one on one time with the over stretched foster carer. She tried compliance on her first placement, but quickly learnt that behaving and abiding by the rules just got you ignored while the carers focused their time, energy and attention onto the 'trouble causers'. If you were quiet, case workers and carers assumed you were _Ok _andleft you to get on with things. On Hope's second foster placement she was there with two other kids. One was a girl a few months older than Hope had been. The girl was so quiet and reserved, she made Hope feel nervous. Hope raised her concerns with the foster carers, who brushed her off. And when the girl had been found hanging in her bedroom a couple of days later all the adults, including the foster carer, were shocked. They had all agreed that no way they could've known there was anything wrong, '_Because she was so quiet.'No trouble at all.'_ Hope had run before the girl's funeral. She had managed a whole two days of freedom before she was spotted and transported off to a third placement.

Hope always got picked up again when she ran. The problem was that, without fail, she kept on attempting to reach the same destination. Hope firmly believed that she had a relative who lived there, her _only_ living relative. She based her belief in the relative on the memory of a conversation with her mom when she was around five years old. She had asked why almost all her friends had aunties and uncles and cousins, but she didn't? And how could she get an aunt and uncle for herself? The part of her mom's answer that had interested her most was the news that her dad had an older brother.

When Hope herself was older and able to comprehend, she was given further information. Although there was twelve years between her father and Joel, his brother, theirs was a good relationship. When he was twenty two, the older brother had joined the navy. At first he was in regular contact, but then it became less and less, until it was just a card each Christmas. He'd stopped spending any of his leave at home and then, finally, there was silence. The last contact was an official letter to say he was missing in action, presumed dead. The news broke his parents. Within three years of the MIA letter, both Hope's paternal grandparents had passed away. First to go had been her grandmother with a heart attack, her grandfather died later after suffering a major stroke. Hope never knew them.

After the death of her own parents, Hope became fixated on the idea that Joel hadn't died, that he'd actually gone AWOL. and had, since then, been too afraid of being caught to risk making contact with any of his family. Hope only knew of one place that her uncle had a connection to, and that was his home town, so it's to there that she persistently tried to make her way. More often than not she didn't manage to journey far before being picked up and returned to various foster carers. On the three more recent occasions when she'd actually made it to the town, she had sat herself outside the home of a different Mr Pebblestone in the hope of seeing someone who looked a bit like her dad. It was only while watching out for Mr Pebblestone number three it occurred to her that her relative might be using a pseudonym? It didn't matter, she was determined to keep searching.

Hope had got better at avoiding being spotted by sharp eyed cops or recognised by chatty store keepers. She always knew that every time she climbed into a stranger's vehicle she was taking a huge risk and, on more than one occasion she had needed to make a rapid, cursing, exit to escape some over-friendly driver's lewd intentions towards her. There had also been two instances when she'd found herself physically fighting with her aggressors in order to get away. The first time, she had got lucky and one of her booted feet landed a solid kick to the male driver's little treasures. The second time she'd had to fight was the one which led to her most recent placement. Her supposed 'Good Samaritan' had suddenly thrust his hand up her skirt and between her legs, she had instinctively bitten into the guy's upper arm. Swearing and hollering, he had scrabbled around with his hand until he found the handle of the truck's passenger side door. He had yanked his arm out of Hope's mouth, elbowed her in the face, then pushed her out the door while the truck was still moving.

That event had merited her four days in a hospital bed where her case worker had pointed out to her that someone stopping to pick her up _because_ she was wearing an ultra short skirt was unlikely to be a nice person. Hope hadn't actually needed telling, _didn't the stupid cow realise she'd purposefully worn the skirt? She'd needed_ _to catch a ride quick, no questions asked_. More angry at being back where she started from than at her treatment at the hands of the truck driver, Hope had refused to speak to the cops and, on discharge from the hospital she was 'dumped' with the specialist foster carer.

Hope had escaped the specialist carers home while the morning was still dark. She'd been lucky, only having to travel on foot for a couple of hours before hitting the hitch-hiker's jackpot, being offered a lift by someone who was going all the way to her destination. Her sympathetic driver for today had been chatty and friendly, even buying her a coffee when they stopped briefly. Having been dropped off in the town centre, Hope smiled and waved to him as he pulled away.

-oOo-

Chapter 1

Dodging traffic, Hope crossed the road and headed for the town's pretty central park. After freshening up in the public toilets she wandered over to an empty bench. Sitting down she undid her duffel and rooted around, finally pulling out a small plastic juice bottle she had filled with tap water and a paper bag containing two cookies. The sight of the cookies had her stomach rumbling and she had to force herself to eat them steadily, rather than simply devouring them as she would like to have done. Her small and unsatisfactory meal finished, she remained seated while focusing her thoughts on how she should progress from here? |It seemed so obvious to her now that with Joel having gone AWOL from the navy, as she so firmly believed, there was no _way_ he would be using his real name. It was only a small mid-west township but, as Hope gazed around at the people using the park, it finally began to occur to her that those previous times she had run to this place, and being here now, was most probably nothing but a fool's errand, a ladder out of the darkness of her grief, the result of her own desperate need to have a family again, a chance to belong. _'In other words Hope Pebblestone, you're a total loser! What am I doing here? The guy's dead. And even if he weren't, why would he be here? With the whole world to go at?' _Hope groaned out loud, knowing the sensible thing to do would be to introduce herself to the first cop she saw and let herself be dumped back at the specialist foster carers or locked up in whichever kid's loony bin they'd already got her lined up for.

Angrily blinking back her tears, Hope noticed she was being watched by a man stood on the opposite side of the children's adventure play area that was sited between him and where she was sat. Hope dismissed him with a high tilt of her nose as she pointedly turned away from his stare. She pretended to be looking for something in her duffel. Sneaking a peek through her long fringe, she saw he was still standing in the same spot, and still gazing across in her direction, a vaguely thoughtful expression on his face. Hope questioned whether it was actually her the guy's eyes were fixed on? Maybe he was actually staring at something or someone behind her? That would just be _too_ embarrassing. As casually as she could, Hope turned to check, her action revealing one straggly looking fir tree that Hope didn't think could hold much fascination for anyone. Turning back, she flinched and let out a squeal of surprise, the man was stood directly in front of her, one hand held out to her and a friendly smile on his face.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump, I just came over to say hello."  
Hope stared at the outstretched hand but didn't shake it, instead she shuffled further back on the bench.  
"How the Hell did you get over here so fast? And for your information, I don't talk to strangers...Go away."  
Letting his offered hand fall to his side, the man gazed at Hope's indignant scowl with amusement.  
"|How about I introduce myself, then I won't be a stranger, will I?"  
Shouldering her duffel, Hope put on her game face, the one she wore when she arrived at each new foster placement, the one that said 'I'm tough, I'm not afraid, don't try pushing me around.'  
"Listen creep. Back off or I start yelling. Gottit?"  
The man lost his amused expression and took a couple of steps back, giving Hope room to get to her feet.  
"Pebblestone."

Hope unintentionally sat down again with a thump.  
"My name's Joel Pebblestone, and I'm pretty certain you and I are related."  
Hope's mouth opened and closed again a couple of times though she said nothing, her mind however was racing. _'Did he just say...? Did I hear...? How, how? Crap, shit. He can't have...Crap...Crap...Must've heard wrong...shit!'  
_"Aren't you going to say something? You did understand what I said, yes?...Ok, how about I try this? Your dad, his name is Ross Pebblestone. Am I right?"  
Hope was only half aware of the tears streaming down her face, her voice came out a whisper.  
"Was...His name _was_ Ross Pebblestone. He died. Him and my mom. They both died. They died and left me. They just left me, I haven't got anybody. Mom and dad died. Oh, _shit!_ They're dead! _They're both really, really dead_!"

The man calling himself Joel Pebblestone quickly sat down next to Hope and wrapped his arms around her while the teenager sobbed heart brokenly into his shoulder. His own thoughts had fractured, shattered by the awful knowledge that his brother had died. He was desperate for answers, how _could _his baby brother be dead? How long ago was it? What happened? Although shocked to his core, Joel knew now wasn't the time to demand answers from the girl, _his niece_. First he needed to get her back to his place, do whatever he could to make sure she felt safe, cared for, wanted. There would be time for talking, and for decisions, later.

-oOo-  
_Sam and Dean make their appearance in the next chapter, honest!  
_Chick xxxx


	2. Chapter 2

_BIG thank you to those who have favourited and/or are  
__following this fic. It really does mean a lot! xxxx  
_Chapter 2

**Now - Two years on from Joel finding Hope in the town park.  
**-oOo-

"Sam...Sammy..._Hey_, bitch!"  
Steering with one hand, Dean punched his sleeping brother's upper arm with the other.  
"Wake up Samantha. We're lost in the wilderness, I need a navigator."  
Rubbing where Dean had punched him, Sam opened bleary eyes and tried to focus.  
"Wha..? Wilderwhere?"  
"Who knows? That's kinda how lost works. Grab the map will you an' find us some place to aim for that's gotta name? My stomach's drownin' out the sound of Baby's engine it's rumblin' so loud."

Awkwardly twisting in his seat, Sam retrieved the road map off the Impala's back seat and opened it up at a random page.  
"'K, what was the last signpost you saw an' roughly how long ago?"  
Dean's brow furrowed, then he pursed his lips.  
"Dean?"  
"I'm thinkin'."  
The older Hunter began quietly muttering to himself under his breath.  
"What?"  
"Nothin', just goin' back over the tracks I've been through while you were sleepin' as usual. They all add up to...Hell, I dunno. How's roughly forty minutes since I last noticed a road sign sound?"  
"Great. What did it say?"  
Dean shrugged.  
"Somethin'. It _had _to say somethin', right? I'm sure I read it, or maybe I didn't? How about you ask me somethin' easy instead?"  
Sam groaned inwardly, there were times when his older brother was enough to turn a saint into a sinner|  
"Fine. How about the last sign you _do_ remember, what did _that _say?"  
"Ooo, wait, I know this one...Pass with care. Did I win?"  
"Yeah, you won the right to pull over and hand over the keys. You're tired, you need a break from driving."  
Dean shook his head in denial.  
"Shammy, I'm not..."  
"Shammy? There y'go. You only call me _Shammy_ when you _really_ need to sleep, now stop the car!"

Dean reluctantly slowed and brought the Impala to a standstill. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he climbed out of the car. Passing one another as they swapped sides, Dean growled a menacing 'Not one tiny scratch!' to Sam. Sam glanced at his sleeping brother. It had taken less than five minutes for Dean's breathing to change, signalling he was out, despite Dean trying to prove how not tired he was by regaling Sam with some tale that became more garbled until his eyes closed and he fell silent. Sam grinned and turned his watchful gaze back to the road ahead.

They had just laboured for five hard days and nights hunting and battling a large coven of fiercely feminist witches, who had a nasty habit of turning any man they felt had offended them into zombies; which basically meant virtually every man within the small mining town they had commandeered. When some of the wives tried to oust the coven, they had found themselves held in confinement as food for the zombie males. In a bizarre Hansel and Gretel tribute, females under sixteen were split into either apprentice witches or house maids; while boys under sixteen were caged and fattened up. Their heftier pals had, sadly, already been the star guests at the witch's nightly banquets. The Hunters had been aided in their quest by three of the townswomen, which had included a nerve wracking period in drag for them both. Their base had been a cold, damp shallow cave and during the case, much as they tried to avoid it, the brothers had found themselves confronted with no option but to kill four of the zombied males. The job had demanded caution, stealth and having to resort to using no small amount of dark magic to wipe out the coven. An act which had the bonus of lifting the zombie curse from it's victims. The win had been bitter sweet however, the zombies the Hunters killed all had families. Both brothers came away aching in both body and soul, grateful not to have another case awaiting their immediate attention.

Sam had intended to stop at any sign of civilisation that included a motel, hotel or any other accommodation just about fit for human habitation. Instead, he skirted around the first town he saw signposted, happy to continue enjoying the peace and the very rare privilege of driving Baby. It was that decision which eventually brought him to the hotel he booked himself and his brother into for the next two nights.

Quietly opening the passenger side door, Sam hesitated. There was no response from Dean, until Sam's revenge punch was en route to Dean's bicep. It didn't connect,. Instead Sam's wrist was gripped firmly by Dean's hand. Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head.  
"Ahh my young apprentice. You should know by now it is unwise to underestimate the ninja powers of the older brother...Where are we?"  
"Just outside a place called Grantsville, I've got us booked into this cool lookin' hotel. Wait till you see it!"

Getting out of the car, Dean stared over the Impala's roof in surprise at the accommodation.  
"Sam, how much is this costin' us?"  
Sam grinned.  
"Not a whole lot more than we'd normally spend on a half descent motel, an' it includes our dinner tonight an' breakfast tomorrow."  
Sam walked around to the trunk of the Impala with Dean following on.  
"Seriously? We get to stay in a mini castle _an'_ they're gonna feed us? Ok, why's it so cheap? What's the catch? No roof? The bed bugs are runnin' the place? What?"  
Sam threw Dean's duffel at him.  
"Dean! I didn't ask. Ok? Tell you what. Let's get inside, then you can interrogate the owner yourself."

Sam turned and strode towards the hotel's arched wooden entrance door which stood open, revealing a small entrance vestibule in which stood a fake suit of armour that would benefit from a thorough dusting. Closing the trunk, Dean jogged after his longer legged brother, grinning up at the pseudo medieval three storey stone building with it's two round towers and it's crenulations sitting oddly with it's UPVC double glazed windows.

A second internal wood panelled door led from the vestibule into the carpeted reception area which was furnished with two leather wing back chairs positioned either side of a table made from an upturned half oak barrel. A small display of silk flowers neatly arranged in a brass vase sat on it's polished top along with a selection of glossy magazines, golf and yachting for him, home style and antiques for her. The stone walls were hung around with various reproduction medieval weapons and a variety of classic shield shaped wooden plaques, all colourfully painted with heraldic designs. Wall lights and the wooden cartwheel style ceiling chandeliers were all fitted with candle shaped bulbs. The faux beams crossing the ceilings and all other woodwork within the place was stained dark, including the small reception desk. Hung behind the desk was a large old master style oil painting of a fair maiden in the throws of a passionate kiss with her brave knight, a deceased dragon was depicted sprawled on the ground behind the loved up couple. On the reception desk was a notice saying 'Welcome to the Castle Hotel. Please ring bell for service.' Next to the sign was a brass desk bell. Sam reached out to it, but Dean's hand snaked under his and hit the bell three times. Dean ginned at his brother in child-like delight.

A door behind the desk opened and a pleasantly smiling fifty something man dressed in neatly pressed pants and a crisp white shirt with a dark blue tie at his neck stepped through.  
" Mr Halen, and you must be Mr Cooper? A pleasure to meet you sir. Your room is almost ready, in the meantime would you care to have a seat and peruse this evening's dinner menu? I'll have one of the staff bring out your complimentary coffees."  
The man's badge proclaimed him to be the hotel manager, a Mr Phillip Duncan. As he spoke he ushered the brothers towards the wing back chairs, two leather bound menu's tucked under one arm. Noticing their well used and battered duffels, the man didn't lose a stride.  
"Ah! Sirs, allow me to have your luggage taken up to your room for you."

Sam and Dean exchanged amused glances while the manager turned to beckon over a much younger man dressed much like the manager but wearing a dark blue shirt and who had appeared out of the same door the manager had used.  
"Leon, could you take these gentlemen's luggage up to number 21a? Thank you Leon."  
Without the practice of the older man, Leon's doubtful gaze slid from the distinctly shabby duffels to Sam and Dean before he could catch himself. He blushed as he hurriedly adopted a neutral expression and moved to grab the duffels. An arm longer than his got there first, the hand on the end of the arm pulled both bags backwards, out of Leon's reach. Sam gave the young man a friendly smile.  
"Thanks, but we'll take them up ourselves when the room's ready. Coffee would be great though."  
The manager nodded.  
"Leon, if you wouldn't mind?"  
"Coming right up."  
Leon made a grateful exit while the manager presented each brother with a restaurant menu.|  
"I'll return to take your orders when you're ready gentlemen."

-oOo-  
_A.N. Just to highlight that Hope's side of things does include _**flashbacks **_to things which have happened to her since meeting her uncle, Joel.  
__Chick xxxxxx_


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N. Before reading on remember, this is a 'T' rated fic. Most  
__chapters probably don't warrant it, but this' one of those that does.  
_Chapter 3  
-oOo-

Moving across the sky, the sun's rays found a way in to a single story log built cabin through one of a pair of small four paned side windows. Gradually responding to the touch of it's warmth on her naked body, a seventeen year old girl uncurled from the foetal position, yawning as she stretched out her arms and legs. The sensation of soft fur against her skin made her open her eyes, and she grimaced at discovering she had chosen to sleep on the pelt of a long dead bear. She wasn't surprised to find herself alone. It was always the same. He never failed to make sure he wasn't around when she woke, and they never, _ever_, spoke about it. The girl knew what they did was wrong in every way but, when it came, that desire and that want, their absolute _need_ was too strong, too much for either of them to ignore. She would turn her back to him and, with little more than a grunt of dominance, he would roughly shove himself into her. She would show her acceptance of his domination over her by pushing repeatedly back against him, inviting him to go deeper, harder. There was no love in the act, only pure animalistic lust for one another. Their unnatural coupling had begun within weeks of her turning sixteen.

The first time it happened, feeling relaxed and sated after eating well, Hope had undulated her way languidly into the cabin's unlit living area. Within moments her uncle was at her back, gripping her around her slender waist. He had pressed himself up to her, rubbing his erection against her, already salivating in his want, his heavy breaths hot on the back of her neck. Hope hadn't hesitated. Adjusting her stance slightly to make access easier for him, she had parted her legs and welcomed him in without a seconds thought. And she had matched him, thrust for thrust, wanton, unrestrained, hungry for both the pain and the pleasure.

Now though, just as it had that first time, with the morning came the self loathing, the dreadful guilt, and the same doomed vow they each silently swore to themselves; it would _never_ be allowed to happen again.

As always, Joel was in the small kitchen, door closed in order to give Hope her privacy as she raced, naked, to her room. Donning a bath robe she gathered together some clothes and headed for the shared bathroom, locking herself inside. It had become a ritual of hers that, after they had been together, the first thing she did was to take a very long and very hot shower, as though she could scrub away the disgust she felt towards herself. It never quite worked.

Joel had offered Hope a permanent home roughly two years prior; the same day he approached her in a park on the premiss that he believed they were related. Having nowhere else to go, Hope had agreed to go to Joel's house where, as well as being a perfect gentleman, Joel had told her enough about her dad as a boy and about her paternal grandparents to convince her that he really was Joel Pebblestone, her father's brother, her uncle. He had told her that it was how much like her father she looked that had led to his initial approach. Hope was sixteen when she found out the truth behind her and Joel's initial contact.

By then Joel was her officially designated guardian and long term foster carer under the name Lee Watford, courtesy of some dubious, (if anyone cared to look closely), and expensive documentation that he owned. His explanation to Hope regarding the need for the deception was that, on the verge of a 'nervous breakdown' due to the secretive and harrowing nature of his missions, he _had _gone AWOL from the Navy and, since then, had managed to keep under the radar largely due to his change of identity and by keeping himself pretty much to himself. Hope didn't know how Joel made a living, only that it entailed his going away for two or three days per month. She had been fifteen when Joel had found her and gave her what she so desperately wanted, a stable and caring home.

Then, within days of her hitting sweet sixteen, she experienced the most dramatic and pain filled change to her life since the tragic death of both her parents.

On the morning of her birthday, the smell of breakfast cooking drew Hope out of her bed and shuffling into the kitchen, announcing herself with a noisy yawn. Joel turned from overseeing the frying pan and grinned as he looked Hope up and down.  
"Morning. Nice to see you've made an effort for your birthday."  
Hope gazed down at her pink PJ's, the top emblazoned with a glittery unicorn. On her feet she wore a slightly tatty looking pair of furry cat faced slippers.  
"Be nice to me you. S'my birthday."  
Joel chuckled as he turned his attention back to his sizzling frying pan.  
"Yup, and you've definitely got that whole mature thing cracked. How many eggs? _Ha_! Cracked. Eggs. Geddit?"

Hope rolled her eyes and headed towards the compact dining table with it's two chairs.  
"You're so sad_Ooooo_! _Pressie_! For me?"  
"Guess so. Like you said, it's your birthday."  
A small square beautifully wrapped parcel topped with coils of ribbons sat on Hopes place mat.  
"Can I open it?"  
"How about we eat first?"

Plates having been cleared, Hope at last got to open her gift. Careful removal of the wrapping paper revealed an old looking leather covered box, the kind which generally signified an item of jewellery. Eagerly, Hope removed the box lid, and sat staring at the warm rose gold chain hung with a pendant which snuggled on a pad of ancient looking, soft, cotton wool. The oval shaped pendant was delicately worked in rose gold filigree and at it's centre was clasped a nicely sizeable cabochon cut stone that at once seemed to be silver grey in colour, then white shot through with pink and, at yet another angle, pale and iridescent grey blue. Hope loved it, turning the pendant this way and that, making it's pastel colours dance.  
"Joel! This'...It's...It's like nothing I've ever seen! Oh My God, thank you! _Really_!"  
Joel smiled, pleased by Hope's genuine delight.  
"It's antique. The stone in the middle is called a Moon Stone, it was very popular in the eighteen hundreds."  
Hope began fastening the chain around her neck.  
"And it's very popular with _me _right now."

Standing she moved to Joel's side and hugged him tightly around his shoulders.  
"Thank you, this' the best pressie and you're the best uncle."  
Joel extracted himself from Hope's hug and began gathering up the breakfast plates, keeping his face averted from Hope as he spoke.  
"There's something else Hope. Another gift I'm going to give you, but it has to wait till Friday night."  
Hope frowned at her uncle's back.  
"_This_ Friday? But I thought you were away working this Friday?"  
The rise of Joel's shoulders suggested he had taken a deep breath before turning to face Hope.  
"I am. And this time I want to take you with me. Hope, you're my family. I want you to know what I do, and I want you to join me."

That, then, was how the newly sixteen Hope came to be stood in a forest with her uncle who said to her that they were waiting for the full moon to rise. When it did, her terror at what she witnessed stole her voice and stole her strength, sending her crashing helplessly to the ground, leaving her at the mercy of the creature that seemed to have taken the place of her uncle. Consciousness left Hope at the same moment that the creature bit into her.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxxxx


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Back with our guys in the hotel.  
-oOo-

Dean glowered at the leather bound menu.  
"What's a 'compote' Sam? Would I eat one?"  
"You're onto the dessert menu already? Ok, well, basically it's stewed fruit."  
"Right. So it's a posh name for baby food...You think maybe it comes with a side order of hot momma? 'Cos man..!"  
"Better order two if it does."  
Dean looked at his younger brother in mock astonishment.  
"Wow! An' here I was thinkin' you sang soprano these days!"  
"Just 'cos I'm not the man whore you are, it don't mean I've been castrated, slut. What're you havin' for your main?"  
"They do a steak, they've called it Aberdeen Angus, guess he's come all the way from Scotland just so's we can eat him."  
"Aberdeen Angus is a breed of Scotch cow. They've got big horns an' they're seriously hairy."  
"Really? Hairier than you? Not possible...Ok, I'll give old Angus a miss. Call me weird, but I don't fancy eatin' a hairy steak."  
Sam stared at his brother's profile while Dean continued to gaze at the menu.  
"You're kiddin' man..._Right_?"  
Not taking his eyes off the menu, Dean simply smiled. Their small talk was interrupted by the return of Leon.  
"Sirs. Your room is ready. I can escort you up whenever you're ready."

Dean's face lit up when Leon led them to the spiral staircase that was the access to one of the Castle Hotel's pair of towers.  
"Dude, you booked us a tower room? Awesome!"  
As far as Sam was concerned, Dean's delight meant the extra cost for the tower room was money well spent.  
"Yup. Kings of the castle bro'."  
Leon said nothing. Virtually everybody who ever booked a tower room came out with that line or something similar. He himself had stayed in the room once when the snow had fallen too thickly for him to get home. He hadn't slept much. He'd found the room spooky, flinching at every little creak and squeak he heard.  
"Here we are sirs, and here's your room key. I can take your orders for dinner if you're ready? If not, there's menus in the room and a phone that's connected to reception. You can ring your order down."  
Leon's eyes drifted to Sam's duffel.  
"Um, there's no, um, requirement to dress for dinner tonight."  
Dean looked at the youth seriously.  
"Will it be ok if we _do _though? Only, I need somewhere to tuck my napkin."  
"Erm?"

The door closed, leaving the two Hunters to take stock of their surroundings. The room was, as Dean had secretly hoped, round like the tower it occupied. The level they were on held one king sized bed. There was also a dark wood coffee table and two tan leather armchairs, carefully positioned to take in the view out of the room's single window, classically arched in shape. The TV was unobtrusively mounted on the wall and hidden behind a short tapestry curtain when not in use. On top of a dark oak chest of 'two over three' drawers sat a wooden butlers tray. The tray was set with cups, saucers, sachets of tea, coffee, sugar and sugar substitute, as well as four bottles of spring water, four drinking glasses and a silver plated jug filled with fresh milk. There was even a porcelain dish brimming with dainty individually wrapped cookies. The wooden plank flooring was topped off by a large circular oriental style rug in dark, rich tones; it's deep pile was soft and luxurious underfoot. The room also had a balconied mezzanine level accessed by a wooden spiral staircase that rose from the centre of the walk in level. On the mezzanine sat a queen size four poster bed, complete with red velvet drapes, green velvet bed throw and a veritable herd of silk covered cushions in various hues 'artfully' scattered over the bed. Dean didn't waste a moment.  
"Bags downstairs. I'm gonna try my bed out."

Sam didn't bother answering. Gazing at the whole bed concoction, he couldn't decide whether it actually looked _kinda, what's that word? Oh yeah...Snuggly._ Or was it the sight of what had so recently become 'his' bed that was causing his sudden bout of nausea? Looking around Sam saw the mezzanine had one straight wall with a door in it. Opening the door a light automatically came on and he smiled to see a shower room and toilet. At least he was likely to win the race for a shower, and he didn't have to negotiate the spiral stairs if he needed the toilet during the night. His area also had one armchair, again placed by an arched window looking out over the hotel's gardens and to the forest beyond, a wardrobe he had no use for and a small music system with headphones. Maybe he'd not done so badly after all?  
"Hey Princess? When you're done searchin' for peas under your mattress, I made coffee...You found a toilet yet?"  
Sam smiled.  
"Nope. Maybe it's at the bottom of the tower stairs?"  
He listened to his brother muttering things about 'dumbass idea' and 'use the damn window' until there was the sound of a door closing, instantly creating a rare silence. Wandering back down to the room's lower level, Sam grabbed his coffee and sat down with the hotel menu while he waited for Dean's unlikely to be silent return.

In contrast to Dean's concerns about '_stuck up starters'_, '_miserly mains'_ and '_pretentious puddings', _the Hotel's restaurant offered far more than three peas and a half ounce of meat. Full and content, the brothers drifted into the bar area, laid claim to a table tucked into a corner and settled in for a relaxed evening of, as Sam happily highlighted, 'being like normal people'.  
The bar staff left for the night at 11pm and the hotel manager stepped in as bartender. He nodded his head towards Sam and Deans almost empty glasses as he passed their table.  
"Same again gentlemen?"  
Sam gazed into his glass, then shrugged his shoulders.  
"Why not? But then I'm off to get acquainted with my bed. Dean?"  
"Sure. There's always room for a nightcap, or three. What time do you close the bar?"  
The manager smiled.  
"When the last resident to finish their drink decides to retire to their room."  
Dean hiked both eyebrows.  
"You mean I could sit here drinkin' all night without getting' thrown out?"  
"That's right sir."  
"Awesome! But what about you? When does your shift end?"  
The manager gave another small smile.  
"When the last resident to finish their drink decides to retire to their room."  
"Oh. Not so awesome for you then."  
"Quite, sir."

Setting his empty glass down, Sam's mouth opened wide in an unrestrained yawn and cringing, Dean leaned his upper body away from his brother.  
"Damn! Came close to bein' swallowed by a black hole right then!"  
"Never gonna happen Dean, there's no black whole in _any_ universe that's big enough to swallow your head. You comin' or stayin'?"  
Looking around, Dean realised that the scattering of other residents who were in the bar area had already disappeared and he grinned, liking the idea of being the only person left.  
"I'm gonna stay for one more, you go ahead, just watch out the bed cushions don't try suffocatin' you."

As his brother departed, Dean stood and strolled over to the bar counter where the manager was re-loading one of the optics.  
"I'll be right with you sir. What will it be?"  
"Straight bourbon when you're ready, an' how about droppin' the 'sir' an' callin' me Dean?...It's a nice place you've got here."  
"Thank you. We all do our best to make people's stay a pleasant one. We hope people will want to stay with us again and they won't do that if they have a bad experience. Your bourbon sir..._Dean_. Sorry, force of habit."  
"Forgiven. Sam an' me? Our work means spendin' a lotta time on the road, you know? Most often we book into some local motel overnight, it keeps our expenses down. Place like this? I'd definitely expect room rates above what we're payin', _especially_ with breakfast an' a fancy ass supper thrown in. This place should be turnin' 'em away at these prices, but I don't think you're even close to bein' booked up solid. My guts tellin' me there's somethin' here an' it's nothin' to do with the staff or service. Go ahead. Tell me I'm wrong."

The manager delayed answering, instead pouring himself a tonic water as he considered his response. He ended his silence with a sigh.  
"You're absolutely right of course. No hotel likes carrying empty rooms, and our booking numbers have been in decline for some time now. They have, in fact, fallen below any sort of comfortable level. The Castle had built up a large returning customer base, company reps, traders and the like. We also hosted a busy calendar of conferences, each lasting two or more days. More often than not the attendees as well as the facilitators and guest speakers required accommodation. That's where we have been hardest hit. I've been forced to let good staff go, both for financial reasons and because lower customer numbers need less staff. I took the decision to reduce our normal room rates in an attempt to attract new customers, such as your good selves...But Dean, I really must apologise for talking about all this to you. I have no right, please forgive me."  
"Hey friend, it's me who asked. Any clues _why_ your bookin's started goin' down?"  
Dean's interest flared at the manager's next words.  
"Do you believe in ghosts Mr Cooper?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxxxx


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
_Flashback - Hope's first turning. Really hope I've done my  
__job right on this. If it makes you cringe, I'm happy **;**P  
_-oOo-

In the past she'd had no end of people say, always in a sickeningly unconvincing kindly tone, _'Hope dear, change is always hard.'_ But nobody, not one damn person, had _ever _stated _'Hope, change is fucking __**excruciating**_!_ Especially unwanted, unasked_ _for, unwelcome and seriously unbelievable change.' _

She would've screamed the stars out of the sky, had her neck and jaw not been so inexorably, and mercilessly, fixed on cramping, grinding, crunching and elongating into the neck of something inhuman.

Brightly painted false nails catapulted off her finger ends ejected by thick black sharply pointed claws that thrust through tender flesh that split and ripped away from fingers that cracked and splintered as they lengthened to fit hands that grated twisted and melded until they had re-formed into paws. She fell forward digging her claws into the loose soil her head hung wishing she could die taking deep ragged and wheezing breaths while feeling her skull fracture fuse fracture fuse fracture fuse she watched her own teeth bloody and rooted fall amongst the grass forced out by things that pierced and grew through ruined gums eager to fill an over stretched mouth now edged by ripping and tearing lips.

At last she was able to clutch some inadequate and feeble relief by expressing the mind scouring hurt in a sound. Terror and trauma combined within her tormented high pitched howl. She raised her strangely heavy head, preparing to spear the night with her anguish again when her breath her reason and her soul were suddenly viciously snatched from her by the searing white hot agony of her back snapping sending a volcanic shock wave throughout her body that turned to a searing explosion of brilliant white lightning behind her eyes.

The violence inflicted throughout her fragile human form during the turning stole the last vestiges of strength and muscle tone from the remnants of Hope, she collapsed completely onto ground sodden with her sweat and blood. Nothing of her was within her control. Helpless, she was only vaguely aware of her bowels emptying and urine soaking between her hind legs as her body continued to jerk, writhe and twist it's way through the final stages of her transition into a werewolf. The last aspects of Hope Pebblestone to transform and complete her mutation into monster occurred within her brain. Those parts responsible for higher functioning grew numb, becoming muffled as though buried under deep snow; leaving this version of Hope primarily a creature of instinct. Her emotions, behaviours and thought processes were left revolving around and responsive to much more basic needs and wants than her fully human self. And what she had first wanted in her new, supernatural, form was very basic indeed..._Hungry. Hunt. Eat. _

Slowly rising up from the ground and onto all fours feet, her nostrils flared as she tuned into a powerful, and familiar scent. The scent was male, but somehow there was a thread of her own scent woven within and around the male's scent. It translated into one thing, that the female werewolf was scenting kin. Her hackles raised, she turned silver grey eyes towards the sound of a soft whine. Lifting her snout she breathed in deeply, testing and tasting the watching large, dark grey male through his smell. She knew him. _'Is Alpha kin, is proper to submit.' _The female carefully squatted before lowering herself fully to the ground and, very deliberately, rolling onto her back. There, she revealed her unprotected stomach and throat to the bigger creature and waited for him to decide whether he was going to attack.

xxxxxx

Dean grinned at manager who's own expression was grave.  
"Why? You gonna tell me this place's haunted? What is it? A grey lady? White lady?"  
The manager shook his head.  
"No, although we do get a lot of residents who book the tower room that you're in complaining to me about '_Strange noises_' and manage to convince themselves the room is haunted. I can assure you it's not. If you hear anything during the night it's just the occasional clanking of the hot water system, nothing to be concerned about...Oh, I'm sorry. Have I disappointed you?"  
"Might've been fun but no, not really, and no way noises in one room explains why folks are stayin' away."  
The manager gave Dean a wry smile.  
"No, it doesn't. Actually that was me attempting to divert you away from the topic of dwindling bookings."  
Dean raised his glass to the man, liking his honesty.  
"An' now I'm even _more_ curious. What am I missin' here?"  
"Allow me to pour you another, on the house and, if you don't mind? I think I'll join you this time."

xxxxxx

Joel, as the adult werewolf, became Hope's teacher and guide during their periods of change. He taught her how to stalk, bring down and quickly kill wildlife. They ran together, hunted together, and they rutted together. In her human form however, Hope interacted with Joel as infrequently as possible. If for any reason she had to remain in the same room as him, she did so in silence. The meals he prepared she ate in her room, never commenting on the food or requesting something particular. Every night she locked her bedroom door, although Joel never acted inappropriately towards her in human form. She withdrew as much as she could from the family she had worked so hard to find. After that first change, Joel had tried to talk to her, to explain. He'd sat outside her locked door and spoke about how he'd been turned while in the Navy. He'd had a few days shore leave in Cuba, was 'befriended' by two women and a man, roofied, then turned, becoming a part of their small pack, learning how to live as man and monster. He spoke about the subsequent deaths of his pack mates, killed by humans calling themselves 'Cazador de demonios', daemon hunters. He related to Hope various snippets of his life and movements as a werewolf, of being alone and lonely, and of eventually making his way back to this township, the place that he had always known as home.

Hope had listened from her side of the door, but remained silent despite Joel's apologies and his pleas for forgiveness. She wasn't prepared to give him that. He was responsible for damning her to this dual life, for turning her into a killer, for making her a monster, for not giving her the chance to choose. She could _never_ forgive him. He had turned her into two separate identities and, in doing so, he had left her less than half the person she once was.

Now, although she and Joel continued inhabiting the same house; Hope almost completely entombed herself in her own room. Her only real outings were during the change; and those occasions when she walked into town and visited the park. Always sitting on the same bench that she had been sat on when her uncle first responded to his recognition of a strong underlying familiarity within the scent of her and had made his approach, she would quietly watch the people living their lives around her. Over time she had become familiar with the faces of those who regularly used the park, she even made up names for them. Mrs Bump had her baby and Hope saw the newborn Bump Baby grow and show signs of getting close to taking it's first steps. She never saw a Mr Bump. She saw when old Ms Shaggy Dog suddenly began walking the park alone, a picture of sadness; and she noticed when the old woman stopped appearing. Mr and Mrs Perfect who brought the kids to the park together turned out not to be so perfect after all. The park turned into the designated neutral territory for Mrs Perfect to hand over the kids to Mr Perfect for his contact visits. She lost track of the partners Mr Gorgeous-And-Gay wandered hand in hand through the park with; but she noticed with sadness when he began to rapidly lose weight and start to look tired and weaker.

Then there were 'The Others'. Four so far who, for no apparent reason, simply stopped using the park. Except Hope always knew exactly the reason why. Each time her tears had lasted longer, and the anger towards her uncle had grown stronger. Hope felt like a captive animal in so many ways. But despite the want, she felt too afraid to leave behind her home and go her own way. It would mean carrying the monster within her to other places, and she wasn't willing to do that. However, by staying she already instinctively knew that, eventually, she would be driven to challenge the older werewolf in a bid to take over as Alpha. She had to assume that her uncle was fully aware of the fact too and, while she wondered how he felt about it, she had no desire to talk to him about it.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to my big sis and Shazza19 for reviewing.  
It's nice knowing there's someone out there :D  
Chapter 6  
-oOo-

Dean watched while the manager swallowed half the generous amount of whisky he had poured for himself. Dean's instincts were screaming at him that here was a good man who was facing something on the wrong side of normal, something the guy couldn't do anything about, but maybe he and Sam _could_?  
"It's not just the hotel my friend. Visitor numbers all around here have declined; the whole township is suffering because there's true evil here. For over a year now, there's been a merciless serial killer living amongst us and the sheriff's department are no closer to apprehending him than they were when the first murder occurred."  
Dean's hopes for a possible case sank. No matter how prolific, a serial killer wasn't a job for them, though having pushed the guy to talk, he wasn't going to stop him now.  
"What numbers are we talkin'?"  
"Believe it or not, nine murders so far. And Dean, I'm not exaggerating when I say that the way those poor people died? Well, it's horrific at best."  
Surprised by the number of deaths, Dean's eyes widened.  
"_Nine_? But no clues?"  
"I know. Appalling, isn't it? And what's even worse is that the police, Hell _all_ of us, know when it will happen if there's going to be _another_ death; but knowing doesn't help to stop it."  
Dean frowned, his spider sense starting to tickle the hairs on the back of his neck.  
"Go on then, I'm curious, when _is_ there possibility gonna be another murder an' how can you tell?"  
The manager's voice held a tone of certainty.  
"This coming Sunday, Monday or Tuesday."

At that moment, in Dean's mind, the problem became _exactly_ the type of job he and Sam should take on.  
"Right when there's a full moon due. Is that the pattern?"  
The manager tensed, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.  
"How...?"  
Dean shrugged.  
"Astronomy. It's a hobby; satisfies my inner geek. You mind tellin' me how the vics died?"  
There was a moment's hesitation during which the manager looked Dean in the eyes, deciding whether or not to trust the younger man then, with a nod, he accepted Dean's explanation. Dean noticed the man unintentionally shuddered before he answered Dean's question.

Sam woke to the sound of his phone alarm. Turning it off he laid a while enjoying the comfort of a proper bed and the knowledge that there was no rush to vacate the room and hit the road. The day stretched ahead with nothing to do but relax and take some recovery time from the last job. He'd set his alarm to give himself plenty of time to have an unhurried shower and go for a run in the hotel grounds before breakfast. The thought of a shower had him easing himself out of bed. Humming quietly to himself he grabbed what he needed and headed for the bathroom, pausing briefly on route to confirm the presence of his brother by the sound of Dean's soft snoring drifting up from below the mezzanine level.

Finally emerging from the bathroom feeling clean and refreshed and carrying his running shoes, he silently made his way barefoot down to the lower area to make himself a coffee. Looking to where Dean was sleeping, Sam grinned and paused to extract his phone from his jogger pocket. Switching it to camera mode, Sam pointed it at the older Hunter, stalling in his intent when, with his eyes still closed, Dean's voice growled,  
"Don't do it baby brother. Payback will definitely leave you hurtin'."  
Sam hurriedly hid his phone as Dean, lying on his back, naked, on top of the bedclothes with his feet on his pillow and his head at the foot of his bed, opened one eye to peer at his upside-down brother. Sam gave him a look of wide eyed innocence.  
"Do what?"  
"Sammy, hands off your phone an' get the coffee rollin'."  
"I'll make coffee if you cover up. I'm already off sausage for life."  
"There speaks the voice of a jealous man."

Laughing, Sam headed for the drinks tray while Dean rolled over and began checking the floor around the bed for his denims, giving Sam his news while pulling them on.  
"After you wimped out an' went to bed last night I got talkin' to Phil..."  
"Phil?"  
"The manager? Anyway, I got us our next hunt. A werewolf. Been snackin' on people round about for over a..."  
"_Please_, tell me you're kiddin'?"  
"…Year...Um, no. I'm totally serious. The locals an' the cops think they've got a human serial killer workin' the area, but Sam, the way the vics died? An' the timin's? _Gotta_ be a werewolf..._What_? What's up?"

Sam had turned and targeted Dean with an angry glare while the older Hunter spoke.  
"Oh, I dunno; maybe I somehow thought we'd give ourselves a break after the last job? Maybe I was dumb enough to hope for at least forty eight hours off. You know, just long enough to catch up on some sleep, re-stock on supplies, let some of the bruising fade, get used to not having to hide out in a cold, wet cave, get the stench of zombie outta our clothes; that kinda thing? But nooooo. Lucky us, you've found us a Werewolf we can start chasin' after. Right, well I guess we'd better get suited up, give breakfast a miss and get out there. You wanna start with the cops or the local press? C'mon, hurry up, go get your shower an' make it fast; next full moon's Sunday an' we got a lot to sort out. I'll go settle the hotel bill an' start movin' our stuff out to the car. At least livin' in her we'll stay dry an' warm, not like in that damn cave...Dean? Why're you still standin' around?"  
Dean was staring at Sam with a small frown.  
"You've got bruises?"

The two Hunters strolled into the hotel dining room, Sam having been somewhat mollified by Dean offering to extend and fund their booking at the hotel. Dean's eyes opened wide at the amount and sheer variety of both hot and cold food available to choose from at the all you can eat buffet style breakfast.  
"Oh man, I'm gonna still be sat eating when lunch time comes around!"  
Sam grinned.  
"Tell you what, you start at that end an' we'll meet in the middle!"  
A petite brunette spotted the pair and beckoned them over,  
"What room are you in gentlemen?"  
Dean turned on the smile.  
"Shouldn't we at least introduce ourselves first?"  
The waitress looked slightly confused.  
"Um, certainly sir, my name's Emma and If you would give me your room number, I'll show you to your table."  
Elbowing his brother into silence, Sam took over.  
"Thank you. We're in Tower room 1."  
As they followed the waitress Sam muttered into Dean's ear,  
"Crash an' burn bro'."

Having launched an attack on the mouth watering wide variety of hot and cold food available, Dean sat gazing lovingly at his brimming plate.  
"This, Sammy, is a man sized breakfast, with not a nut or raisin in sight. You can keep your living yogurts an' your cereal free cereals, _this_ is proper fuel for the body."  
Sam shrugged.  
"It'll come back an' haunt you one day Dean."  
The older Hunter re-considered his food.  
"Which d'you think it'll be? A creepy Casper chicken? A pissed off piggy poltergeist? Maybe a moanin' mushroom? An' speakin' of...This case."

Sam glanced around, reassuring himself that the other occupied tables weren't too close before he answered, dropping his voice almost to a whisper.  
"You said this thing's been goin' on for over a year?"  
"Right."  
"Without any eye witnesses?"  
"My guess? Our guy's varied his diet, he's not just snacked on locals, an' not all the left-overs will've been found. The cops have credited nine kills to the...Wait for it...'Moonlight Murderer'. Imaginative, huh? Obviously, the real body count's gonna be higher, even if it's only taken one vic each cycle."  
"You know Dean, I'm pretty sure I've heard the tag 'Moonlight Murderer' already."  
Dean looked at Sam in surprise.  
"Since we got here? How come you didn't..."  
Sam cut his brother off.  
"Not here, on TV. On one of those real crime shows...Open Case Files. That was it."  
"You seriously watch that show?"  
"Well, yeah, but only if we're lookin' for a case. I remember a slot a few episodes ago, it was about a serial killer nick-named the Moonlight Murderer...Unless there's been another 'Moonlight Murderer'? The programme talked about six murders but, like I said, it was a number of episodes ago."  
"But you didn't pick it up for us?"  
"No Dean, I'm sorry, I didn't. There wasn't much info about the actual killin's, the show was more focused on tryin' to damn the local cops for incompetence; ok?"  
"Ok, ok. I'm sorry. Anyway, from what Phil's said about the state of the remains, this' got werewolf written all over it. It's _definitely_ our kinda case. So. You in?"  
Sam sighed.  
"Given that the only other option is to let you go catch a werewolf by it's tail on your own, I don't have much choice, do I? Which do you want, cops or library an' local press?"  
"I'll take the cops."  
"Fine. You can see your pal Phil about extendin' our stay as well."|  
Dean gave an embarrassed coughed and looked away.  
"Um. Already done an' sorted."  
Sam stared across the table at his brother, then shook his head in resignation.  
"I'm goin' for more coffee. Want one?"  
"Yeah, thanks."||  
"Great, go get it yourself, _douche_."

-oOo-  
Chick xxxxx


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
-oOo-

Having listened to Dean's introduction and the reason for him being there, the duty sergeant's gaze went from the fake FBI badge Dean held up for his inspection and on to drift down over his denims, tee and casual jacket before returning to Dean's face. Although he remained silent, the man had one eyebrow raised quizzically. Dean's pre-prepared cover story fell easily from his lips.  
"I know what you're thinkin' partner, it's the clothes, yeah? No suit? Truth is I'm here unofficially, doin' a favour for a friend. You might know him; Phil? Castle Hotel?"  
The sergeant gave a single nod of his head.  
"I know Phil."  
"Well, then you'll know this things affectin' his business pretty bad. I'm guessin' it's not just the hotel business that's sufferin' either? Must be puttin' a real strain on you guys in the department too? Not enough man hours to deal with this _an'_ all the other stuff comin' at you. Must feel like folks' expectin' you to be in three places at once?  
"You got _that _right Agent, uh, Foley. Sounds like you're here doin' some freelancin', that right?"  
"Like I said, this' off the books, but it's strictly free gratis an', anythin' new I uncover? It'll come straight here to you guys. All I need is some time with the files, an' maybe a chat with some folk. You think that can be arranged?"  
The cop glanced towards a door that led into a back office.  
"If it was up to me I'd say go ahead, knock yourself out; but it ain't. I gotta take your request to the Sheriff...Tell you what, gimme a contact number. I'll see what I can do once my relief takes over. Afraid that's the best I can offer agent."

Grantsville community library turned out to be very much a small, local library catering primarily for the townships' residents. The majority of it's non-fiction collection supported Grantsville's focus on art, crafts and antiques. The township's visitor information service was sited within the same building and alongside the library. Sam hesitated, deciding which service to visit first. Making his mind up, he wandered into the visitor information area which was being manned by a twenty something female who was stood at a table keeping herself busy by sorting and tidying information leaflets, activity pamphlets and event guides, all aimed at what was holiday makers, day trippers and tourists in decline. The woman had headphones on and was singing along to what she was listening to. Sam's gentle tap on her shoulder startled her and she swung around sharply, finding herself face to chest with Sam.

Flustered, she stepped back, yanking off the headphones. Sam also took a step back while apologising to the woman.  
"Oh, hey. Sorry, my bad."  
Adjusting her line of sight up to Sam' face, she stuttered out her own apology.  
"No, it was my fault. Shouldn't have been wearing the headphones...Um...Can I...I mean. Is there...? Ok, starting over... Can I help you sir?"  
Sam gifted her with a charming smile.  
"I'm hopin' so. Do you have a map of Grantsville that includes the surrounding area?"  
The woman grinned happily back up at her customer and headed towards a rotating stand filled with different types and sizes of maps and atlases, talking to Sam as she went.  
"Road map or ordinance survey?"  
"Um..."  
"What are you most likely to use it for?"

Sam made a show of checking that there was no one to over-hear while strolling across to her. He answered with his voice serious and lowered conspiratorially, his play instantly rewarded by the woman leaning closer, eyes wide, listening intently.  
"This has gotta stay strictly between you an' me, right?"  
"Sure. I swear!"  
"Ok then...My job is checkin' out potential locations on behalf of a high profile paranormal investigation programme. D'you know the kinda show I mean?"

While useful to Sam, the woman's eagerness and her willingness to believe what he said was also worrying. What if _he'd_ been the 'Moonlight Murderer' standing here, picking out his next victim? She'd _definitely_ win first prize for being too trusting.  
"Yeah, I do, and I _love_ watching those shows! Which one of them do you work for?"  
Ah, sorry, I'm not allowed to say. But, it's _very_ high profile."  
The woman was a living bundle of curiosity as she chose two maps from the selection she had for sale.  
"OMG. This' _so_ exciting. Are you allowed to tell me which place you're looking at round here? I might know it, then I could show you the way? I can't believe this. I never even knew there _was_ any haunted sites round here. If it turns out there is, we should put some info about it in here. It'll be great for Grantsville if you end up filming an episode here."  
Sam reeled in his catch.  
"Actually, it's the whole area we're considerin'. You might be able to help me out if you can ID some exact locations for me? I gotta warn you though, if you provide any info about a location an' we end up filmin' there, your name would have to be included in the show's credits. Would you be ok with that?"  
"_Would _I! My name's Anne Stowemarch, Annie if you like and I'd _love_ to help, just tell me what you need?"  
"Great. May I?"  
Taking the road map from Annie, Sam moved to a table and began opening it out on top of the table's contents.

"Ok. The team's interested in doin' an episode about the Moonlight Murders. I need to check out the spots where each victim was found. Their spirits could still be attached to that area an' the team's idea would be to go to each location, try to contact each spirit, an' ask them the name of the killer."||  
Sam's phone rang before Annie could respond. He moved away from her to take the call from his brother.  
"Hi. Problem?"

Leaning up against the hood of the Impala, take out coffee in hand, Dean gazed over the main street into the park as he spoke to Sam.  
"Nah, not yet anyway. You?"  
"Right now? I'm in the visitor information centre with a lady called Annie who's helping identify locations for me to check out for the show."  
"Show?"  
"Yeah, an' like Annie said, if the paranormal team _did_ film here, it would be real good for Grantsville."  
"Right, I get it. Interestin' cover dude. Ring me when you're finished."  
"Will do, bye."

Annie was watching Sam.  
"I couldn't help overhear, was that someone from the programme?"  
Sam smiled, starting to feel bad about conning Annie.  
"Yeah, the production manager. The team's still keen on comin' here. So...Locations? Are there any you can mark on the map for me?"  
Sam noticed Annie's smile fade and she gazed back at the open map with sadness.  
"Yeah, some of them I can."

Dean was about to pocket his phone when it rang.  
"Hello?"  
"Agent Foley?"  
"Yeah, that you Sergeant?"  
"Yessir. I've managed to talk to the Sheriff, any chance you can get back here in the next 20 minutes? The Sheriff wants to meet with you."  
Dean lowered his head before answering. He'd hoped to be able to do everything through the duty sergeant without having to go further up the chain, trouble was, he needed the access. He couldn't really refuse.  
"Great. How about now? I'm only a couple of minutes away, stopped to grab a coffee."  
"Now's just fine. I'll let the Sheriff know."  
Sliding into the Impala's driving seat, Dean was already making another call.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxxx  
_If anyone has the time, I would love to know your  
__thoughts on the fic so far. Don't worry, I can take it :D_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
_Further in story character thens and nows  
_-oOo-

Hope didn't need a calender or to look up at the night sky to know when it was getting close to the first night of the full moon, her own body made it very clear to her. The fine hairs on her arms would start to tickle, a feeling much like both arms were constantly being brushed by invisible strands of spider web and, no matter how much she rubbed or scratched at her own arms, nothing eased the sensation. Hope herself would become increasingly restless, pacing around the confines of her room, increasingly yearning to run, it didn't matter where to.

The first time she felt this way, Hope went out for a jog, despite Joel advising against it. Initially it was fine, it successfully quelled her agitation but, as she continued jogging steadily around the park, the tension began to rise again, sending her stomach into knots and there was only the one release...Run. Run _fast._

There was no gradual build up of speed from her steady jog. Hope simply switched from jog to full on sprint in one stride, startling the jogger behind her who was using Hope to pace herself. As she continued circling the park at racing pace, Hope's awareness of what was around her had faded, her focus shrinking until all she knew was the power of her own legs carrying her onward. She didn't notice people having to quickly scuttle or jump out of her way, or the shouts telling her to watch where she was going, calling her an idiot, and worse. Neither did she notice the young woman directly in her path who right then had her back to Hope and was bending over, chatting to a toddler by her side. Hope quite literally ran the woman over and, in a spinning whirlpool of limbs, they both crashed to the ground.

Despite the cacophony of noise triggered by the collision, Hope always after remained certain that even above the screams, the child's sobbing and other people shouting, she actually heard the woman's right wrist shatter and the sharp _crack_ that was one of the woman's ribs breaking. It was something else entirely however that stood out for Hope both at the time and whenever she thought back to that day in the park. It was the unique and mouthwatering body odour of the fallen woman herself. Hope had found herself struggling to combat the powerful urge to sniff the woman's face while they were both on the ground.

Even with the broken bones and subsequent surgery on her wrist, the woman Hope slammed into turned out to be a very lucky lady. There had been time for her unique scent to become lodged deep in Hope's memory. Fate or good fortune, however, ensured that the young woman's path never crossed or ran parallel to Hope and Joel's on a night when the moon was full.

While extremely painful for the injured woman, the incident was also traumatic for Hope. Both guilt ridden and horrified by the incident, Hope had determinedly remained with the woman and her little boy until the ambulance arrived, despite the derision of the gathered onlookers. When the ambulance arrived it turned out that, following on right behind it, was a deputy sheriff.

Later, with the incident deemed to be thoroughly stupid but purely accidental, the deputy had called Joel to collect Hope from the Sheriff's department and drive her home. After providing Joel with a grudging description of what had led up to the accident, Joel had offered suggestions on strategies that Hope could try that wouldn't prove risky to other people. Ever since then, as the period of the full moon drew closer, Hope managed her increasing tension by resorting to eating raw meat and Joel never failed to ensure that the fridge was well stocked with thick cuts of bloody, red meat and hunks of offal from the local butcher just prior to a full moon.

That was where Hope headed now. Selecting a slab of sirloin that only just fit on her dinner plate and a carton of fresh milk, she turned to go back to her room just as Joel walked into the kitchen. Hope scowled at her uncle's intrusion and made to stalk past him but Joel deliberately side-stepped into her path. She tried a second time to bypass him, but again Joel used his body to block her.  
"Hope. We need to talk."  
Refusing to make eye contact with him, Hope's answer was snarled through gritted teeth.  
"No. We really don't."  
Joel tried putting a hand on her shoulder. Hope instantly turned towards the touch and glared at her uncle's hand, imagining herself biting into the raw flesh. Scenting the rise in her aggression, Joel snatched his hand back but remained stood facing his young niece.  
"I don't want us going out during this full moon. We can secure ourselves down in the hide, I can keep us supplied with..."

It was a suggestion Joel had frequently made in the past, and Hope was heartily sick of it. Joel's sentence stalled when Hope's right hand shot forward. Grasping the gold chain around his neck she dragged his own moonstone pendant out from under his tee. Unfurling her fist she let the pendant lie on the palm of her hand and lifted it up in front of Joel's face.

For the first time in a long while she raised her head, and looked Joel in the eyes. Joel's body froze, becoming rock still, except his breathing and his heart rate, his heart being his betrayer as it's beat suddenly increased in response to the icy cold threat held in the eyes of his niece. He knew Hope would be aware of the change in his heart's rhythm, he had no way to hide it from her.

"You piece of _**shit**_! _You_ made me what I am, an' I'm tellin' you once an' for all, the monster you put inside me _will_ be hunting come the full moon. You can sit chained up in the hide till you _rot _for all I care, but don't you _ever_ try to get _me_ down there again. Got that?...The time for testin's real close _uncle_, can't you smell it? I'm ready for it. I can't wait for it. You better prepare yourself dear uncle...Now, do us both a favour an' _**fuck off outta my face!**_"

Shocked into silence, Joel stepped aside and made way for his niece.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx  
A review or two seems to really help my typing finger **;**p


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
-oOo-

"Ma'am? That FBI guy, Agent Foley's here to see you."  
Grantsville's sheriff looked up from behind her desk as the duty sergeant ushered Dean into her office.  
"Thanks Dan...Have a seat Agent Foley. You won't mind showing me some ID?"  
"Sure. Here you go sheriff."

While the sheriff gazed carefully at the ID Dean handed her, Dean himself took stock of the sheriff. An attractive woman, he guessed her age to be somewhere between late thirties to early forties. She wore her dark blond hair short and spiky and, when she looked up at him again, he saw that she had pale green eyes framed by black narrow rimmed glasses, out of uniform she would be a head turner. Dean was interested to note she wore neither an engagement nor a wedding ring. He turned on the smile as she handed him back the fake ID, his smile wasn't returned however.

"Tell me what you're doing here."  
Dean let his surprise show.  
"Oh, right. Sorry, I assumed Dan would've filled you in?"  
"He did, but I want to hear it from you before I make my decision. This is a very sensitive case as I'm sure you must appreciate. I might also want to speak to your superior. Would that be a problem?"  
Dean shook his head.  
"No Ma'am, though I'm not doing this as part of any official FBI investigation."  
The sheriff gave a tight smile.  
"Yes, so I understand. So, again, what _are _you doing here?"

The charm offensive already having been dropped, Dean became Agent Efficient, changing tactics to closer match the sheriff's style. The sheriff listened in silence while Dean spoke, never offering any small sounds of comprehension or encouragement, leaving Dean with no way of gauging whether she was accepting his story, or not. With little to lose, Dean decided it was time to name drop.  
"Cards on the table Sheriff. If I was you I'd be wonderin' who's this off duty douche who thinks he can come in here actin' like he's decided you an' yours ain't up to the job an' he's gonna show you all how it's done? But honestly? It's not like that. I'm just offerin' to help out, be an extra pair of hands. I'll give you my superior's number so you can check me out, no problem. Or I can give you somethin' even better. I've regularly worked alongside two of your own on various unusual cases. I can give you both their direct numbers if you haven't already got them. There's Sheriff Jodie Mills in Sioux Falls, and Sheriff Donna Hanscum in Stillwater, Minnesota."

Dean's gamble paid off and at last the Sheriff broke her silence.  
"I've not met Sheriff Mills but I know she's got a stand out rep. I _have_ met Sheriff Hanscum...Tell you what, Agent, you wait out in the main office and I'll give Donna a call. I've got her number thanks. Once I've spoken to her, I'll let you know my decision. Is that acceptable to you?"  
Dean stood up.  
"No problem at all Sheriff. I'm positive Donna will be able to reassure you."

Joel sat in his favourite armchair in the living room, balancing a large tumbler of whiskey on the chair arm and staring into the empty fire grate. For so long he'd wanted Hope to stop her silence, stop shutting herself away from him, let him help her adjust, learn to live with what she was, but her words to him that day made him wonder if it was too late? Hope had all but said outright that she was going to challenge him, maybe not this period of full moon, possibly not even the next, but it was definitely coming. Joel was _almost_ sure he would come out of it the victor, in both human and werewolf form he was so much bigger and heavier than his niece. He also had many years experience behind him. But Hope was fast, she was wily and, more importantly, she was angry. He couldn't help wondering what would happen to him if somehow Hope _did_ actually manage to get the upper hand? Would she have the self control or, indeed, the _will_ to back off and accept his loser's affirmation of her new status as Alpha? Or maybe she hated him so much that, during his supplication, she would move in and rip his throat out? Joel emptied his glass in one and went to pour himself another generous amount of the single malt. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ accept that the only blood family he had left hated him to that extent...Or had he unknowingly created a true monster when he turned Hope?

Map safely put in his inside jacket pocket, Sam left the visitor information centre having said his goodbye's and promising a phone call to Annie that would never actually happen. Sam felt bad about getting the girl excited about a possibility that didn't exist, in reality, but lying was part of the job description for a Hunter and Sam would still rather be able to feel some guilt about it than have hit the point of being completely de-sensitised. A fast glance around the customer car park showed no sign of the Impala. Deciding what to do next, Sam felt his stomach rumble despite having had a breakfast banquet earlier, and so he cast around for somewhere to grab a sandwich for himself and one for Dean. Pulling out his phone he hit Dean's number.

Sitting outside the sheriff's office felt way too much like all those occasions he'd been sent to the principal's office at various schools and had to sit waiting to be called in for some boring lecture about his behaviour, or his attendance, or him wasting his abilities/opportunities/talents. It was pretty much the same speech whichever school he had been temporarily enrolled at.

Finally, the office door opened and the sheriff popped her head out. Dean instantly knew Donna had done a good job because the woman actually smiled at him.  
"Ok Agent Foley. Let's talk. Would you like a coffee?"  
"That would be great."  
The sheriff called across to one of her deputies who was at that moment sat at his workstation scowling at his PC.  
"Matt? You mind fixing up a tray of coffee and bringing me anything we've got on paper about the Moonlight case? Thanks."  
"Glad to ma'am."

Sitting back down at her desk, the sheriff shuffled her monitor closer.  
"Grab a chair Agent and come sit beside me. Even out here in Grantsville we've been reluctantly introduced to the computer age, so now a lot of our info is stored electronically. Where exactly would you like me to start?"  
Sitting himself down, Dean smiled pleasantly at the sheriff.  
"Well, first, how about you call me Dean? Then, can you give me a brief rundown on each of the vics? I'm curious to know if there's any common factors amongst them like age, occupation, lifestyle, relationship status, or anything else you've picked up on? Oh, an' what about how they died? Is it always the same M.O., or have there been differences?"  
The sheriff nodded.  
"I can certainly bring all that up for you."

As the Sheriff sat and briefly talked about each victim in the order that they died, it soon became clear to Dean that the only really common link between the cases she had covered so far was that they were all dead and, Dean was now certain, they all came to be that way courtesy of a werewolf. While the Sheriff was speaking, Dean's phone rang. Looking at the caller ID he saw it was Sam.  
"Um, sorry sheriff. Do you mind? I'd like to take this, it's family."  
The Sheriff stood up,  
"No problem. I'll go see where our coffee's disappeared to."

Dean waited until the office door closed behind the Sheriff before speaking.  
"Hi Sam. Everythin' ok?"  
"Yeah. Wondered if you wanted a sandwich is all. How's stuff goin' your end?"  
"Good, the Sheriff's givin' me the low down on the vics, don't seem to be anythin' linkin' them."  
"Except they're all dead."  
"Thank you Captain Obvious! I'm not quite done here yet, I'll ring you when I'm out. See you back at the hotel?"  
"Sure. What about the sandwich?"  
"No thanks, not for me. See you later."  
"Later dude."  
The Sheriff appeared with coffee and cookies just as Dean ended the call.  
"Everything ok? No family crisis I hope?"  
Dean grinned.  
"No, no crisis. You wanna hand with that?"

-oOo-  
Reviews/comments very welcome  
Chick xxxxxxx


	10. Chapter 10

To those who celebrate it, have a wonderful Christmas.  
To everyone else, I wish you a happy and peaceful 2020 Chick xxx  
**Chapter 10**  
-oOo-

It was a fine, dry day and Sam didn't feel much like going back to the hotel straight away. Instead he decided to walk down and find a spot in the town's park to eat his  
sandwich. As he wandered down the high street he stopped occasionally to gaze in the window of an antique shop or an art gallery, making the most of the brief respite from his life as a Hunter.

The park was well cared for with numerous flower beds giving splashes of colour amongst the green of the grassed areas and the small copses of trees and shrubs dotted around. There was a children's play area, a picnic area and a small cafe with seating both inside and out. There was even a pretty little pond which was home to a variety of ducks. It was a peaceful, even quaint, park with an inviting charm. Strolling in through the ornate wrought iron gates, Sam spotted an empty bench and headed over to it, settling himself down to eat his sandwich and peruse the map he had purchased. Focused on cross checking the meanings of the various symbols overlaying different parts of the map, he didn't notice someone had sat themselves at the other end of the bench until he glanced up, responding to a young child's giggles and squeals of delight as the attentive adult with her gently pushed the swing. The little girl's joy was infectious. Sam grinned broadly and turned to the teenage girl who was sharing the bench and who was also watching the scene.

"She sounds like she's havin' a great time, doesn't she?"  
The girl didn't take her eyes off the laughing child.  
"I s'pose."  
The flat tone in which the teen answered effectively put a stop to any further conversation. Finishing his sandwich, Sam folded his map up and glanced around for a trash can. Spotting one back at the park gates he stood up to leave.  
"Well, 'bye. Um, have a nice day."  
Bestowing the briefest of glum glances onto Sam, the teen's accompanying '_Whatever_' made it clear she really couldn't care less _what_ kind of day she had. Sam left her to her sulks and went in search of a cab back to the hotel.

"Sammy? You awake up there? S'me. I'm back."  
Sam's voice drifted down from the mezzanine level.  
"Great. So long peace an' quiet."  
"Bitch. How'd it go with Annie? Is she cute? Did you get a date with her?"  
"Why? You an' the Sheriff wanna double up?"  
"How'd you know the Sheriff's female?"  
"I didn't."  
"You gonna get your butt down here, or did I get back a bit too soon?"  
Sam's head appeared over the balcony.  
"Make coffee, jerk."

Holding the notes he had made at his meeting with the Sheriff, Dean gazed at the red dots on Sam's map which the Hunters had opened out and laid on Dean's bed. Each dot represented where Annie had told Sam a victim's body had been found. Sam tapped a finger over an area where there were two red dots close together.  
"Did the Sheriff say if any of the vics were stayin' here at the hotel?"  
Dean nodded yes.  
"First body found in the grounds here was a guy called James Dowlin'. He was due to arrive in the early hours of the mornin' but never checked in. Come daylight his car was found in the hotel car park with the driver's door wide open. The paintwork all round the door handle was badly scratched an' it looked like the door itself had been hit with somethin', a hammer or, my guess? Punched by our neighbourhood werewolf. The guy's remains were discovered in the hotel grounds under some shrubs. The usual internal's were missin'. Second time around was another male, Barcley Jones, smoker. Went outside for a cigarette, never came back in..."  
"Smokin' kills."  
"Right. You done?"  
"Just sayin'."  
"Anyhoo, nobody saw or heard anythin', only thing caught on the one security camera was a dark shadow passin'. The vic an' his wife were newly weds due to check out next mornin'. The body was left out in the open at the back of the hotel. Theory is the wife comin' out to look for her new hubby disturbed the killer before he'd got chance to hide what was left of Barcley."  
"An' the manager didn't mention any of this to you last night...Are you thinkin' he's our hunt?"

Dean moved away from the map. Sitting himself down in one of the armchairs he looked out the window thoughtfully for a moment. Rubbing a hand over his head, he turned back to Sam.  
"If I just go on my gut feelin's? No. I don't. But hey, I could be wrong...Hope I'm not, I like the guy but, we need to know why he kept shtum."  
"You gonna ask him? Or do you want me to talk to him?"  
"I'll do it...The two your girl marked as bein' found in the town itself? Their files show they were both killed in winter. Both times the full moon happened durin' a period of heavy snow fall. Heavy enough to leave Grantsville virtually cut off."  
Sam came and sat down opposite Dean.  
"Right. So we're lookin' at someone local who knows the town well enough to move around an avoid bein' seen, not someone who travels to hunt. Snow tracks?"  
"Nope. Heavy snow? Any tracks will've got covered over again."

Sam let out a sigh.  
"Look, how about you just tell me if there's _any _useful intel been gained from the other deaths?"  
Dean smiled.  
"They all go to prove campin' out in forests sucks."  
Sam leaned forward and put his head in his hands with a groan. When he sat up straight again it was with a look of resignation on his face.  
"Well, ok. If we decide our mark isn't the manager, we both know which way this' goin' so we might as well stop playin' detective an' just go visit the area where most of the vics were found. At least we'll get a look at where we're gonna be hangin' out durin' the full moon."

Draining his coffee Dean stood up and headed towards the door.  
"Where you goin'?"  
"To talk to Phil. You comin'? Even if he ain't our guy, there could be other stuff he's not told me an', if we do decide he's not our werewolf; we might have to break some bad news to him."  
"Fine."

Hope could feel the low lying tension inside her beginning to build up again. _Time to go home an' eat. _Standing up from 'her' bench in the town park, she set off towards the exit, her eyes cast downwards but her stride purposeful.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx  
_A quick 'Hello' from anyone reading would be great :)_


	11. Chapter 11

To 'Guest' – Hello back at ya! :D :D  
_To NC – Stop worrying, mailing soon xxxx  
_Chapter 11  
-oOo-

Phil was once again stationed at the reception desk. The brothers sauntered into the lobby at the same time as a sales rep type walked in the hotel entrance. To Sam's extreme embarrassment, Dean brazenly broke into a jog just to beat the man to the desk. The rep threw Dean the kind of look normally reserved for a rude child, but said nothing. Phil simply raised one eyebrow.  
"Phil. Soon as you can, me an' Sam need to talk to you, _privately._ Ok?"  
The manager responded politely.  
"Certainly sir. If you would both like to take a seat over there while I welcome the gentleman behind you to the hotel?"  
Dean nodded,  
"No problem."  
Turning away from the desk Dean made eye contact with the new guest.  
"Hi. Awesome hotel. _Huge_ breakfast. You're gonna love it."  
The rep smiled at the crazy guy uncertainly.  
"Um, I see. Right. Um...Thanks."

Sam had already very purposefully distanced himself from his brother's company, heading straight to the lobby chairs. Picking up a glossy magazine he opened it at random and began determinedly reading an article on how to extend the life of pot-pourri, despite having no interest what-so-ever in the topic.  
Dean dropped himself down into the chair next to Sam.  
"Bro', I've been thinkin'..."  
Sam cut him off huffily.  
"Well done for that, but I've no idea who you are so please don't talk to me again, you complete stranger...I'm very busy conducting vital research into pot-pourri."  
Dean began to chuckle, quickly infecting Sam until, eventually, both brothers were simply laughing at their own attempts to laugh quietly. By the time the hotel manager walked over to join them, they had just about managed to reign in their shared laughter.  
"Gentlemen, you wanted to speak with me? I'm all yours, shall we go through to the restaurant?"

Not yet open for service, the restaurant was quiet. Leaving Sam and Dean to choose where to sit, the manager disappeared briefly into the kitchen where the head chef and her team were busy prepping for the evening service before joining the brothers at their chosen table.  
"Now sirs..."  
"It's Dean, remember? An' this' Sam, my brother. Just so's you know, we're not wantin' to make any kinda complaint, this place is great, ok?"  
"Oh, well, thank you for that Dean, Sam. So. How _can_ I help you both?...Ah! Tony."  
A member of the kitchen team approached the trio bearing a tray of coffee and a selection of small sweet pastries.  
"Thank you for doing this Tony...Please, both of you, help yourselves. The pastries are made fresh every day. Enjoy."  
Dean's eyes lit up.  
"Well my friends. You now have my undivided attention, what did you want to see me about?"  
Right then, Dean was experiencing pastry heaven, leaving Sam to open the conversation. He got straight to the point, watching carefully for how Phil reacted.  
"Why didn't you tell Dean that two of the killer's victims were guests who were killed right here in the hotel grounds?"  
Phil's whole demeanour altered and he only just managed to swallow his mouthful of coffee without choking. The man seemed to shrink in his seat, his shoulders slumped and his expression shifted, becoming a picture of sadness as he remembered the two guests who had died so horribly. He took a moment to gather himself as best he could before answering in a soft voice.

"You might think this' stupid, but the way I see it? Anyone staying at this hotel is under my care until they book out. Those two poor gentlemen should've been safe, here, but I let them both down...One of them was newly wed. Did you know that? The poor, poor girl, his new bride, she was inconsolable obviously. It was a tragedy, a horrible tragedy, for both the victim's families; just heartbreaking...After the second murder I closed down the hotel. Obviously, the staff and I gave whatever help we could to the Sheriff and her team during their investigations...It was nearly a month before the hotel opened up to guests again, and even longer before I felt able to let either guests or staff leave here alone at night...And no, I didn't highlight the deaths that occurred on these grounds to you Dean. I mean no offence but, if you had been interviewing me in an official capacity? I would of _course_ have spoken about the deaths of our guests. However I believed we were simply conversing. What would be the point of me scaring you by talking about two of the appalling murders having taken place in the hotel grounds? You know, _all_ the murders, _wherever_ the victims died, are equally horrendous, equally important, equally sad...Now. If you both _are _in fact here in some official capacity? Undercover police perhaps? Then I will, of course, happily answer any and all questions as best I can, once you have shown me some official ID?"

Sam and Dean shared a glance and a nod of agreement. Turning back to Phil, the brothers' expressions were equally serious. Dean took a deep breath.  
"Ok Phil, here's the thing. No, Sam an' me ain't cops, FBI or anythin' like that. My brother an' me? We're both what's known as _Hunters_. That's not the normal kinda hunter...It's our job to hunt down an' kill monsters."  
Phil stared at Dean for a while without blinking, then...  
"Excuse me?"  
Sam stepped in to back Dean up.  
"I know it sound's all kinds of crazy but, Dean's telling you the truth. We're Hunters and we find and kill monsters."  
Phil's stare switched to Sam.  
"Excuse me?"  
Sam gave the confused and startled man a sympathetic smile.  
"Phil, listen to me...Monsters are real. An' I'm so sorry we've had to tell you that."  
Phil's gaze switched from one brother to the other and back in silence. Dean tried again.  
"_Monsters_ Phil, you know? Ghouls, ghosts, things in the closet? All that kinda stuff's real...Includin' Werewolves. An' speakin' of; are you by any chance a werewolf Phil?...Just askin'."

Hope was stretched out on her bed trying to have a nap, but her intrusive thoughts wouldn't let her. Tomorrow night the moon would be full and once again she would endure the trauma of her transformation. Her emotions, as always, were conflicted. Hope was terrified of the agonies to come, but somewhere deep down inside her was the excitement of the hunt, the power she would have in her wolf-like body, the way she would be able to move, how the world would smell, how it would look, and taste.

Her thoughts drifted to the man who had been sat on her bench today. He was tall, good looking, and he had seemed friendly, but her response hadn't been exactly encouraging if he'd been wanting to engage her in conversation. Hope let out a sigh. What would've been the point in talking to him? Really, what was the point of talking to _any_ male who might show an interest in her? It's not like she was ideal girlfriend material. Some guy's might have to keep their heads down when their girlfriends hit their menstrual cycle, but any boyfriend _she_ had would have a Helluva rougher ride than _that_!

And what about marriage? Or, _God forbid_, kids? What the Hell might she give birth to? Would it be a human baby, or more like some kinda puppy? Hope gave a bitter laugh. Would a kid of hers end up going to school? Or dog training classes? And how about Christmas? Would it want an X-Box? Or a Bonio?

Hope's thoughts continued in the same ilk until she finally realised she was crying. Her tears were of despair and a deep sadness for a life she couldn't believe was the kind destined for a creature like her. That life, the one she had dreamed of, would always be way beyond her reach, and it broke her heart.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxxx  
_Reviews/comments always welcome :)_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

-oOo-

Phil continued to stare at the waiting brothers in disbelief. He had thought this pair were likeable and, well, _normal. _Now it seemed like they were both one bagel short of a picnic!  
"Am...Am I a?...A?..._Excuse me_?"  
Sam sighed, reaching into one of the back pockets of his denims, he produced a small antique silver pocket knife which he offered to Phil.  
"Would you mind holding this?"  
Phil swallowed hard, believing he was now facing a crazy man _with a knife_. He quickly decided he'd rather be the one holding the knife and accepted it from Sam.  
"Um...Should I put this in the hotel safe for you?"  
Dean gently relieved the shaken man of the knife.

"Phil, this' silver. If you were a werewolf, you wouldn't have held it so casually. Neither of us is here to harm you in any way at all, totally the opposite in fact. All we want is for you to listen to us...I've spent time meetin' with the Sheriff this morning discussing the murders, an' Sam here has got a map which the young lady he spent time talking to about the Moonlight Murderer has kindly marked the locations of where she knew bodies had been found, including your two guests. Phil, your Moonlight Murderer isn't human. It's a werewolf, an' we're gonna do our damnedest to find it an' kill it. It's not the first werewolf we've hunted, it won;t be the last...We get rid of this monster? No more killings. Think about it my friend. The town and this hotel can start to recover. That's somethin' ev'rybody wants. Right Phil?"

Dean and Sam waited for Phil to gather his thoughts and respond in some way. Finally, he did.  
"Monsters? Werewolves?...Real?"  
Sam rolled his eyes.  
"Yes Phil, they're real, get over it! Tomorrow night's a full moon."  
Real fear suddenly flared in the manager's eyes.  
"Oh my God!"  
Dean turned to Sam.  
"By George, I think he's got it!"  
"'Bout time."  
"Monsters!_ Real!_ Oh...My..._God_!"  
"Yup. He's definitely got it Sammy."

Having pulled the Impala off the road, Sam and Dean climbed out of the car. Dean glanced at the back seat where there was a vacuum flask and a good sized lidded plastic tub.  
"Think old Phil must've decided we were coming out here for a picnic!"  
Sam laughed.  
"Come on Dean, the guy desperately wanted to help. Makin' sure we don't go hungry's about the only thing he could do for us. It was a nice thought."  
Dean smiled.  
"I know, an' I appreciate it really. I do. An' I _really _appreciate him insistin' we stay at the hotel free gratis. I'm gonna enjoy breakfast all the more knowin' it ain't costin' us."  
Sam chuckled.  
"You think if we told him the only way to kill this thing was for him to come on the hunt, he'd be here?"  
"Yup. Shittin' his pants but, if we needed him, he'd be here now. He's one of life's genuine good guys."  
Sam nodded his agreement.  
"Well, let's pay him back by makin' sure we gank our mark's shaggy ass...C'mon, first known vic's body was found up this track."  
Dean scowled as he glared at the forest surrounding Sam and himself.  
"I S'pose it'd be too much to hope our fugly's holed up somewhere close so we can get this over with tonight?"  
"Huh. You wish."

Joel closed the hatch in the kitchen floor that gave access to a man made underground one room hiding space. He wasn't prepared to be chained and vulnerable in the face of a potential leadership challenge from his headstrong niece in her wild form. He knew that he would _have_ to go out with her tomorrow night, however much Hope didn't want him near her, and however much he would rather she stayed safely in the hide with him.

Sam looked up at the visible patch of sky that was encircled by the tops of the fir trees which formed a circle around the clearing he and his brother were standing in.  
"This' good Dean. We should set the bait camp up in this clearing. The full moon will pass right overhead, lightin' the tent up like a beacon for a bit; hopefully long enough to be spotted by our werewolf."  
"Great, so let's get the tent an' stuff set up then get back to the hotel. I wanna shower an' check weapons before hittin' the restaurant. Then tomorrow we can relax for the day."  
Sam grinned.  
"Sounds good. I saw a couple of antique stores in town I'm curious to check out."  
"Whoa! Can I just be clear here? When I said 'relax', shoppin' ain't what I had in mind bro'."  
"Think of it as a new weapons hunt."  
"Ok, I can handle that."

The Hunters pitched a small two man tent and set the camping space up to look like the tent's owners were off hiking somewhere and intending to return to the area later. Dean gathered firewood and left it at the side of a shallow fire pit he dug. Sam mussed up the inside of the tent with a couple of sleeping bags, a battery lantern and other sundry pieces of camping equipment. He hung a couple of towels over a low tree branch to look like they had been put there to dry. By the time they were done, the area looked as though someone had been camping there for at least a couple of days. At last satisfied with their efforts, the brothers returned to the hotel.

The hotel manager had been given strict instructions to act and carry on as normal by both brothers but it quickly became apparent that Phil had been either thinking a lot about what Sam and Dean had disclosed to him, or he'd been doing some research. At every possible opportunity, as well as persistently asking if the pair needed anything, he also took to intercepting the brothers and muttering the names of random monsters in their ears. The first time it happened he had leaned towards Dean over the reception desk and asked in a whisper, '_What about vampires? They can't be real_?'  
Dean confirmed they were. Next time it was Sam,  
'_Banshee?_"  
"Yes."  
This happened a few times until it got to the point at which he even knocked on the door to their room. Dean answered.  
"Hi Phil. Wassup?"  
"Um, _Chupacabra_?"  
"Phil, you gotta stop doin' this man! You'll never sleep at night, an' yeah, that's real too."  
"Just one more?"  
"_Jeeze_! Ok, what?"  
"_Daemons. _Are they a real thing too?"  
"You really want me to answer that?"  
"_Yes, _please."  
"Fine, but this' the last time Phil. Yeah. Daemon's are real an' they're douche bags. Nasty, evil douche bags. An' now we're done, right?"  
Phil looked hesitant.  
"I said we're done, right Phil?"  
"Um...So, if _daemons _are real, does that mean...?"  
"_Stop!_ Desist. Enough. Halt. Can it. Whoa. Cease. No more Phil. We are _done!"  
_Dean closed the door on the manager and called through it to him,  
"Go away, there's nobody here."

Phil duly restrained himself from that point on, until Dean, last to leave the bar again, was about to follow Sam up to their room and go to bed. Phil made Dean wait while he trotted into the kitchens to get something he said he thought would be helpful to the pair. When he came back. Phil was carrying a large but shallow rectangular shaped mahogany box. Putting the box down on the bar counter, he proudly opened it's lid, to reveal a complete eight person set of silver cutlery, including ladles and serving spoons. Dean stared in silence at the gleaming pieces and then at the beaming hotel manager.  
"Phil, this' real kind of you. It is. But what you gotta understand my friend is, I'm gonna kill this thing; not invite it to dinner...G'night dude."

Hope woke early, her stomach churning in excitement, much like it used to do on Christmas mornings while her parents were still alive. Tonight the moon would be full. Joel had once explained to her that it wasn't her human self that the excitement belonged to. She was simply responding to the building excitement belonging to the creature within her, and that creature would gradually become more wakeful as the day moved towards night. Once it first truly dawned on Hope what she had been turned into, she developed the desperate need to find a way to keep her humanity foremost and safe. In the end she had concluded that the only way for her to continue to feel primarily human was to give a name to that other unnatural, unwanted part of herself. So that's exactly what she did. Hope called the wolf-monster coiled up inside her, _'Parasite'_.

-oOo-  
Chick. Hugs to all xxxxx


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

-oOo-

Dean was uber bored. He had followed his brother into three antique stores and hung around while Sam picked up, sniffed, stroked, gazed adoringly at, then put back, scores of old, battered, sleeveless, faded books. As far as Dean could see, his brother didn't seem to worry what the books were about, he treat them all with the same geeky reverence. In the third antique store Sam picked out yet another dusty old heavy weight book, opened it up at random and, as usual, stuck his nose up to the open pages and, eyes closed, inhaled deeply. Dean moved closer to him and hissed into the younger Hunter's ear.  
"_Dude_! Why smell the books? I'm pretty sure they didn't have scratch 'n sniff back in the day. You look ridiculous!"  
Sam closed the book and glanced at Dean, winking at him before responding, none too quietly,  
"Says the guy who licks the pages in his copies of Busty Asian Beauties."

Dean's eyes opened wide in horror. Turning rapidly, he scanned the store to see if anyone had heard Sam's blatant falsehood. Two individual male customers swiftly averted their gaze away from him. Indignant, Dean shot Sam a threatening glare.  
"I've _never _done that! You made it up! Admit it, or else!"  
Enjoying the moment, Sam merely grinned broadly and walked past the older Winchester, heading for the store's exit. Dean hesitated momentarily before hurrying after his longer legged sibling. His pace slowed as he drew level with the two men who had clearly heard Sam's comment  
"What he said? My brother? It's a lie..._Sammy! I swear! You're so dead!_"  
By the forth 'Antique Emporium' Dean announced he was suffering from a severe case of antique overload, and so he impatiently waited around outside the store while Sam further indulged his book sniffing habit.

Joel gazed despairingly at the closed door that led into his niece's room. He already knew it was pointless, even so he had decided to try one final time to persuade Hope to forget going out later and, instead, stay locked in the hide hole with him.. His first knocks at the door to her room were met with silence. Joel knocked again, louder and more insistently.  
"_What!"  
_"Hope, please? I want you to reconsider going out this full moon. I was thinking, we can stay in the hide at night but during the day, we could go out somewhere. Wherever you'd like to go. Somewhere special, the beach maybe? Your choice, anywhere at all...Hope?...That sound like a plan?...Hope?"  
Hope kicked the door, hard, from the other side, startling Joel.  
"_If you didn't want me hunting, you shouldn't have bit me, you piece of shit! _It's all on you! _Ev'rything's _on you! Go bury yourself in your stinking hole in the ground if you like; I don't give a shit. I'm_ still _going out tonight so _screw you!_"  
Joel stood in silence for a short period, then he addressed the locked door again, firmly this time.  
"Fine. But don't forget how this works, young lady. If _you _go out, _I_ go out. See you tonight, niece."  
"Whatever, _dick head_!"

Hearing Joel's footsteps fade away, Hope threw herself onto her bed, burying her head into her pillow to muffle her scream of frustration. All she'd wanted was a family. She'd trusted Joel, loved her |uncle, loved living with him, believed she'd found a proper home at last. Why'd he have to go ruin it all? Ruin her life? Ruin her? Hope growled deep in her throat. _Bring on the moon, bring on the hunt, she really needed to chase something down._

Duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Dean shouted up to the mezzanine level."Sam?...Sammy?..._Wakey, wakey._ It's nearly time to go bro' if we wanna be set to rock before dark."  
"Hmmnff...'K ...Juss don' go fluffy goat surfin'..."  
"_Sammy_!"  
"Wha? Huh?...Oh...Um...S'it mornin' or nigh' time?"  
"Evenin'; an' we got us a werewolf to gank. Remember? I wanna be back where we pitched the tent before the moon makes it's appearance so, butt outta bed Samantha, coffee's made, I'm goin' down to the car, back in a few."

Dean had just set off walking through the hotel lobby towards the exit when Phil called him over to the reception desk. Dean side tracked that way.  
"Sorry, but I'm not answerin' any more of your question's Phil. Sam an' me will be leavin' soon, we'll be back at sunrise."  
Phil had the good grace to look embarrassed.  
"I don't want to ask anything...Well...I _do;_ but I won't. I've got something for you and Sam. Here you go."  
Phil produced the same lidded plastic box he had given Sam and Dean previously and the same vacuum flask.  
"Hot coffee, cooked meat sandwiches, sweet pastries and pie. Please, take them. I wish there was more I could do to help?"  
"We got this Phil, ok?"  
Dean tried to see through the opaque plastic.  
"What's the pie?"  
"Cherry. Is that alright?"  
Dean grinned.  
"I'll let you know tomorrow."

Phil's expression became deadly serious.  
"Dean, how can you be so relaxed? For goodness' sake, you and your brother are going hunting a _werewolf_ tonight. Have you any idea how crazy that sounds? And how damn heroic? It's pathetic really that the best I can think of to help is to send you off with a picnic supper!"  
Dean put down the duffel.  
"It's not pathetic Phil, it's thoughtful, it's the act of a good man...An' there _is_ somethin' you can do for us, if it becomes necessary. I'll show you on the map where my car's gonna be parked up. If Sam an' me don't come back from this hunt..."  
Phil hurriedly butted in.  
"What? What do you..."  
Dean stopped him.  
"If Sammy an' me don't survive, there's thing's you can do that would be seriously helpful."  
Looking suddenly pale, Phil nodded yes.  
"O...Ok. _Anything._ Just tell me what it is, I swear it will get done but...Nothing bad's going to happen to you...Is it?"  
Grabbing a pen and a blank sheet of hotel paper, Dean winked at the distressed man.  
"We've been doin' this stuff almost our whole lives, an' we're still here, aren't we?"  
Dean began writing down instructions and contact numbers for the anxious manager.

Sam was just zipping up his duffel when Dean re-appeared.  
"Good, you're ready. Phil's made us sandwiches again, an' pie. He said that was just for me though, sorry bro'."  
"That's ok, you're a good brother, so I know you'll share, an' Phil don't need to find out."  
Dean curled his upper lip and adopted a sulky voice.  
"S'pose you can have one piece. It'll be a small one though, 'cos you're the _little_ brother."  
"Who's actually bigger than you so needs the biggest share to give him the necessary energy."  
Dean answered as they set off down the tower steps.  
"How about I let you have an extra sandwich then."  
By the time they got to the hotel lobby, Sam was being offered two sandwiches and one pastry extra in lieu of a share of the cherry pie.

Phil had clearly been hovering, waiting for both Hunters to appear and he hurried over as soon as he saw them. Stood in front of the brothers, the man open and closed his mouth without saying anything, seemingly lost for words. Dean clapped him on the shoulder.  
"We'll see you tomorrow at sun up, earlier if we get the job done quickly. Have a good night."  
"Yes...Um...You too...Crap. That sounded dumb...Um...You know what I mean. Keep safe, please."  
Sam smiled at the concerned man.  
"Always."  
It was all getting too chick flicky for Dean.  
"C'mon Sammy, gotta move, daylight's bein' wasted."

Phil walked out with the brothers as far as the hotel steps and stayed there watching until the Impala was out of sight. Wandering back inside, he smiled at Leon as the young man cut through the lobby.  
"How are things Leon?"  
Leon bobbed his head.  
"Sir. Everything's good."  
The manager watched Leon head off towards the kitchens and shook his head, whispering to himself. '_No lad. Everything's not good. Not good at all. There's real monsters out there.'_

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx  
_Thoughts, comments, opinions, all welcome and made use of __in an effort to become a better writer,  
__(though I'm stuck with __my crappy spelling. Spell check's cool, until the spelling's __right, but for a different word). :( _


	14. Chapter 14

_Hello again, sorry for the delay posting, family and home life got a bit hectic there for a while!_

Chapter 14  
-oOo-

Years before, Joel had built himself a shelter in the forest using sturdy tree branches to form the structure then covering and disguising it using what he cut or foraged or cut. Over the years Joel had maintained that original shelter, encouraging the forest flora to grow up, around and over it until it was so well protected that the inside remained virtually dry in all but exceptionally severe and lengthy rainfall, and hiding it so well it was virtually impossible to spot even when walking directly past it's location. Come the nights of a full moon he, and eventually he and Hope, came to the shelter before dusk. Once there, with their backs to one another they both shed their clothes and would then sit, patiently waiting for the night and the full moon to bring about the change in them. There had been very few times that a full moon was due but the shelter remained unused.

Joel raised his hand to knock on Hope's room door, at the same time the door swung open and Hope stalked past him, leaving Joel having to talk to her retreating back.  
"Hope, I'm asking you one last time..."  
"_NO_!"  
She kept on walking, strutting actually, through the house, out the front door and was stood by Joel's less than pristine car with an impatient scowl on her face for some time before Joel himself finally left the house and unlocked the car doors.

As ever, the drive to their normal parking spot, off road and out of sight, was conducted in silence. On foot, Hope remained in front of Joel throughout their hike to the shelter. Once at the shelter however, she stood to one side, letting Joel enter first. After she had waited a while, Joel reappeared with one hand fisted. He threw whatever he held away from the area of the shelter.  
"It's clear."  
Hope was a werewolf, but she spent the majority of the time as a teenage human and, as such, Hope hated spiders that were over an inch long. It was routine for Joel to have to check the inside of the shelter and clear out any obvious spiders before Hope would set foot inside. She acknowledged his action with a single nod and entered the rough shelter.

As thickly overgrown as the shelter was, very little light made it through to the inside. The inner area itself contained one lidded chest made of wood that sat centrally against the back wall. There were no other furnishings and the flooring was bare earth. The space certainly wasn't set up to live out of. Opening the chest, Hope grabbed the few items she wanted. Moving to one end of the space, she placed a small rug on the floor. Next to it she dropped an old wool blanket, a bottle of water and a small, plain, empty plastic container. Joel also pulled a blanket out from the box before going to the opposite end of the shelter from Hope. As was their routine, Joel and Hope turned their backs to one another and removed their clothing, including shoes, each then wrapped their blanket around themselves. Their human clothing was then folded neatly and put inside the chest. That done, Hope sat herself down on her rug and began removing the jewellery she was wearing. Everything, her earrings, her two finger rings and a wrist bracelet were dropped into the plastic container for safekeeping. The only thing she didn't remove was her moonstone pendant. Neither she nor Joel would ever willingly take those off, they represented who, and what, they were. Hope drank some of her water then, leaning her back up against the side wall of the shelter, she settled in to wait. Across from her, blending into the shadowed dark, Joel mirrored her position.

Whether it was to distract herself from her anxiety and dread regarding the coming nightmare process of transformation Hope didn't know but, during these periods of waiting she would respond to Joel, one way or another, if he spoke to her; though she herself never instigated any conversation. Knowing this, Joel gazed at the dark wall and at the even darker patch that was the still figure of Hope.  
"Hope?...Just how long are you planning on continuing to hate me?"  
It wasn't a question her uncle had ever asked before. Surprised by it, Hope gave his query some genuine thought, before answering him in a voice that was flat and emotionless.  
"My guess? Until I feel nothing for you at all."

Joel was glad of the darkness inside the shelter, it meant Hope couldn't see just how badly her words had hurt him, she couldn't see the damn tears of sadness and regret that, unwanted, filled his eyes. Silence again descended while Joel took the time to gather himself, before whispering back into the dark;  
"I'm sorry."

Sam watched with resignation while Dean paused to pat the Impala's roof affectionately.  
"We'll see you later baby. Behave yourself while we're gone, you hear me?"  
"Dean, _really_?"  
"You know she listens dude, you just won't admit it...After you, Map Man."  
Having already identified a camping spot and hurriedly put up their tent, it wasn't hard for Sam to re-locate it, which was just as well.

The rain began as a barely there spit-spot of a shower, but it soon decided to make it's presence known, becoming heavier and heavier to the point at which the idea of making a small fire turned to nothing but a happy little dream. The Hunters quickly took refuge inside the small tent. Dean gazed out unhappily while the teaming rain soaked the forest, forming impromptu pools and puddles in patches where the ground was bare and uneven. Unscrewing the vacuum flask and pouring himself a coffee, Sam tried cheering his increasingly sour faced older brother up.  
"All this rain could be helpful. I mean, anythin' wanderin' round is gonna leave tracks in the mud, it could make huntin' this thing easier...Hey! We might even get back to the hotel before daybreak, job done!"  
Taking Sam's coffee from him, Dean scowled.  
"In this rain any tracks're gonna fill up with water, so I'm not seein' much benefit there."  
Retrieving his coffee back off Dean, Sam smiled.  
"How about this then? I figure we'll catch _it's_ scent waaay before it scents _us_. I mean...Wet dog stinks bad enough, so imagine what wet _werewolf_ 's gonna smell like!"  
Glaring at his smiling brother, Dean reached for the vacuum flask.  
"Who went an' voted _you_ in as Captain Cheery?"

Joel tilted his head left then right, trying to ease a repeating short, sharp pain that had begun in his neck.  
"Hope?"  
"I know."

Hope was also feeling the intermittent stabbing pain at the back of her neck; the familiar signal that forewarned Hope that her body was getting set to transform. She instigated the breathing techniques that Joel had taught her, using them to calm her own instinctive fear response toward the pain that was to come. At the same time, she began to work on stretching and relaxing her muscles. The exercises didn't stop the agony of her physical change, but they did seem to help ease the onset a little and Hope was grateful for whatever minuscule amount of relief she could get. A low, drawn out groan from the opposite end of the shelter told her that Joel's total transformation had started.

Panic made Hope's heart begin to race and, not for the first time, she wished she could just reach inside and rip the monster out of herself; wished she could do anything to stop what she was about to go through. Instead she drew one long breath and held it. Closing her eyes, she braced herself.  
"_Here we go..."_

Crawling out of the tent after the relatively short downpour, Dean stood upright and stretched the kinks out of his back before turning the collar of his jacket up against what was now light but persistent rain. He gazed up at the night sky. There was no sign of either stars or moon, the sky above being covered by thick clouds. Dean smiled to himself. In horror films, if the moon was hidden behind clouds, then the werewolf would return to, or stay in, it's human guise. Dean loved the image of some poor werewolf guy strolling along on a night when the sky was full of patchy clouds so the full moon was constantly being covered, uncovered, covered, uncovered...

Every Hunter knew the truth; that it really didn't matter if the whole sky was a blanket of thick cloud and fog. High above it all, a full moon was still a full moon. The tides continued turning, and so did werewolves.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx  
Till next time :)


	15. Chapter 15

Hi again, (finally). Took a break to do some commissioned work, including sculpting a damn unicorn – never again ...  
Over here a 99 year old ex-army vet. survived Corvid 19 and set out to say 'thank you' to the hospital & staff for saving his  
life by walking to the end of his garden and back using his walking frame. His goal was to raise £1,000. Last time I looked  
he'd raised **12 million pounds**. It's his 100th birthday next week. **Happy birthday, hero!**

Chapter 15  
-oOo-

The night air always made the scent of things more pronounced, so much more defined. It was a fact that particularly held true within the middle of an ancient forest made wet with rain, and the colour of the scents that surrounded Dean was a vibrant, living green. Breathing in the enhanced smells of the soil, fungi, mosses, ferns, trees and everything else, it was almost like he could smell the forest actually growing. Dean smiled to himself. _'No stink of_ _wet werewolf yet though'. _The moment he thought that,something clamped itself firmly around his left calf and tugged. Dean heard himself let loose a startled yelp.  
"Jumpy much? You gonna move anytime soon? I can't get out."  
Stepping to one side, Dean scowled down at Sam emerging from the tent.  
"You could'a just asked, a man should be able to appreciate nature without you getting' grabby."  
"I _did. _Good squeal though dude._"  
_"I didn't 'squeal'."  
"Oh, you so did."

On all fours, it's gait hesitant and unsteady, a pale furred creature emerged from the hidden shelter. The beast that Hope had become moved a few yards away from the shelter entrance and laid itself down on the cool, wet ground, giving the trembling aftershock of change that coursed throughout it's body chance to ebb and fade away. Joel had taken pains to drum into Hope the sense in waiting out this relatively brief period before risking heading off anywhere, explaining that every werewolf was at it's weakest and it's most vulnerable in the time immediately after the transformation process. It didn't take very long for the tremors to finally die out and the female werewolf pushed herself up off the ground, rising fully until she was standing upright on her hind legs.

On catching a brief glance of the creature when it was running on all fours, anyone outside the world of the supernatural would assume they had glimpsed a normal wolf, an extremely _big_ wolf, but still just a wolf. Other differences between werewolf and wolf generally only became more obvious to Joe Public when unlucky enough to have become prey. Aside from the size difference and having the ability to walk and run on two legs, to those who were familiar and had contact with werewolves, there were other notable differences. A werewolf's hind legs were far sturdier and much more muscular than any wolf's. Their elongated back paws were fur free, the colour of the visible leathery skin always reflecting the ethnicity of the werewolves human form. They ended in five over long toes, each tipped with thick, pointed, lethally sharp and slightly downward curving claws that couldn't be retracted. The overall presentation was more that of some terribly mutated human foot than the hind paw of a wolf. Likewise, the front paws were a twisted and deformed mimicry of over-sized human hands, including the retention of opposable 'thumbs'. Both male and female werewolves had overtly muscular barrel shaped chests. Like their feet, werewolves' abdomens were bare of fur or, at most, only very finely furred, leaving their firm, sculptured abdominal muscles on view. Both males and females tended towards slender waists and hips, and neither gender had a tail. Muscular and thickly pelted 'shoulders' and neck supported a huge, oddly angular, head that was topped by rigid, upright ears in the style of an American Dobermann. The supernatural monster's eyes held none of the softness or gentleness that could be shown in the eyes of either dog or wolf. Instead their eyes were deep set, harsh, and steeply slanted. They sat either side of a short, wrinkled snout which gave all werewolves the appearance of a permanent snarl. Finally, there was the maw. A wide slash of a mouth that was more akin to that of a Great White than any wolf. Filled with outsized jagged teeth that were perfect for biting, shredding and tearing, like the shark, werewolves had the ability to flex and extend their upper jaw if necessary. A skilled and experienced Hunter would likely describe a werewolf as being _'Just your everyday monster really.' _

Tilting her head back, the werewolf sniffed the night air, reading her immediate surroundings and taking stock of what other living creatures were close by, them not yet having becoming aware of the near presence of an apex predator. A low rumbling sound from behind drew her attention and her light blue eyes met the dark amber ones that belonged to Joel's larger, dark coated werewolf. The female waited a few beats before strolling towards her rightful place behind the alpha at a pace slow enough to teeter on the edge of disrespect. The male growled when she meandered passed him, letting her know that her action hadn't gone unnoticed. When the female initially failed to dip her head in apology, his eyes narrowed and he pulled his top lip back from his teeth in warning. At last the female respectfully lowered her head. Satisfied, the alpha turned his back on her and began leading the way deeper into the forest. Every now and then he stopped to sniff the air, looking to catch the scent of a worthwhile prey.

Suddenly the alpha dropped down onto all fours and began to run. Tuning into the scent the male had picked up, the female also switched to all fours, quickly catching up with the alpha and racing alongside him, her speed equalising the difference in the bigger male's greater stride. Her every sense zinged and sparked, reacting to the glee of the hunt.

-oOo-  
Chick.  
Good health stay with you. xxxx


	16. Chapter 16

_Hi, another delay, another commission, this time a painting for some poor woman's birthday.  
__At least if she hates it, she doesn't know who am or where I live :D  
_**WitchHunter 82 : **If you're reading this, you need to read 'Who You Gonna Call?'

**Chapter 16  
**-oOo-

Dean raised a quizzical eyebrow at his brother as Sam dropped the last of his weapons, the antique silver penknife, into the chest pocket of his jacket.  
"You ready?"  
Sam shook his head and fished around in the jacket's inner pocket.  
"One more thing. Here. I bought us one of these each in that last antique store. They're both hallmarked. Dunno if they'll help but, gotta be worth a try, right?"  
Sam dropped a silver neck chain into Dean's open hand.  
"What d'you think?"  
Dean nodded approvingly.  
"I think if the big doggy goes for the neck an' has to hold off bitin' while it yanks the chain off? It'll give us that extra second we sometimes need so, yeah, good one little brother! Where's yours?"  
Sam grinned and pulled the neck of his tee down,  
"Already wearin' it."  
Dean checked out Sam's chain.  
"Aw look; they match. That's adorable."  
"Shut up an' put it on."

Hidden in deep shadow downwind of their prey, the two werewolves stared at the young buck snuffling around amongst a wet pile of fallen leaves, completely oblivious to the danger it was in. The alpha male moved first with the female leaping a split second behind him. The deer snorted in surprise as it was efficiently brought down, it's back legs kicked ineffectively while it's throat was torn out. The female werewolf waited the very minimum that was necessary in order to show deference to the male, then she joined in the feast Her first taste of warm blood and flesh caused her to whine appreciatively, and she eagerly shoved her snout further into the dead animal's gut, craving the hot, gelatinous morsels contained within.

Dean watched while Sam, on his knees on the wet ground, poured a small amount of oil over the sticks lying in the fire pit.  
"If sittin' round here bein' bait don't bring him to us tonight bro', I say tomorrow night we switch to plan B an' we go hunt him down; ok?"  
Flicking a zippo alight and holding it to the sticks, Sam jerked his head back as the oil instantly caught. Pocketing the zippo, he stood upright and headed back to the tent.  
"_If _this don't work? Sure. But I brought somethin' that should make us _extra_ temptin' tonight."  
"You're turnin' into a regular shoppaholic brother of mine."  
Sam grinned and pulled a parcel wrapped in foil out of his duffel, he threw the package to Dean. Opening it, Dean broke into a broad smile.  
"Good job Sammy! If it don't lure a werewolf our way, we got ourselves a pre-breakfast breakfast. Bonus!"  
Dean sniffed the raw ham joint appreciatively.  
"You realise once the smell of this cookin' gets out there we're gonna get every carnivore around payin' a visit, don't you?"  
"So long as our target is first in line."

Catching the barely there scent of another deer, the alpha male held back, letting the female take pole position for their second hunt. As always, the female took off confidently. Graceful, silent, swift, and deadly. The male maintained a pace and distance which meant that, trees and foliage allowing, most of the time the female was ahead but still in sight. He had no desire to interfere. This kill was hers, she was more than capable. He had taught her very well. Slowing slightly, the female checked the increasing strength of her prey's scent, judging how close she was getting. She set off again, increasing her speed then veering off to the right, the terrain momentarily hiding her from the male werewolf's view. Familiar with his surroundings, the alpha recognised the female was following a route that joined up with one of the many deer trails created by their prey's regular use.

The Hunters' campfire sizzled as drops of light rain fell onto it, but kept on burning. Perched on a low rock by the fire, Dean had his head down, busy.  
"How's it going?"  
"Finished. All yours."  
He handed two rough tripods to Sam, each one made from three lengths of cut tree branches that he had tied together using one of the guy ropes from the tent.  
"Thanks. These're perfect."

Standing one tripod on either side of their fire, Sam then produced the ham joint, now skewered by another branch that he had covered as best he could with the foil to stop the wood setting alight. Dean watched in amusement while Sam fussed around balancing either end of the branch on the tripods, adjusting and re-adjusting the position of everything, until he was completely satisfied that he had the ham positioned _just so_ above the fire's flames.  
"There we go. Shouldn't take long for that to start cookin'. Once it's smellin' good, we move it an' stand the whole thing next to the fire, it should be plenty warm enough there to keep that temptin' smell..."  
Sam stopped in mid-sentence, noticing Dean sat with his eyes narrowed as he squinted at the ham joint critically.

"Um, Dean? What's wrong? What's the problem?"  
Dean tilted his head onto one side.  
"I'm thinkin' maybe the whole set up could do with movin' left a bit. Not much, you know? Maybe just quarter of an inch or so?"  
"Jerk. Take my advice, stick to Huntin, comedy's not your thing.'"  
"Bitch, I'm hilarious an' you know it...Who's gonna take first slot hidin' in the tent?"  
Sam grinned.  
"Rock, paper, scissors?"  
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.  
"That'll be me then."

For the next two hours it was Sam's role to be the bait, which simply involved sitting out in the open next to the campfire armed with close quarter weapons encompassing a silver dagger and, if he managed to lose that, his silver penknife as backup. Dean remained out of sight, watching the clearing from inside the tent. Armed for distance work, he had his gun ready and loaded with silver bullets and a couple of spare clips in his jacket pocket, though he had no expectation of needing them. He figured that if he couldn't score a hit on something as large as a werewolf within the confines of the forest clearing it would be pretty shameful and he would have to give serious thought to giving up Hunting and considering the insane idea of becoming a comedian instead.

From now on it was a waiting game for the two brothers and, for a while, they waited in silence in their respective positions. A rustle in the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing caused them both to tense, ready to react. Sam smiled and allowed himself to relax a little when a young rabbit emerged from the area. Showing no concern for either the fire or the presence of humans, the little creature made it's way through the clearing and disappeared again beneath a low growing shrub. Once again there was silence, broken only by the fizzling fire and the sound of the rain pattering on leaves.

Suddenly the fire spat loudly, startling Sam. The sound was rapidly followed by more spitting and popping as fat from the ham joint began to drip into the flames. Sam started talking to the ham joint.  
"Time to move you over I guess...Let's have a look at how you're doin'."  
He didn't bother lowering his voice, if there was a werewolf within the vicinity then Sam wanted it to know that there was a potential human snack out here.  
"Yup, you seem to be doin' ok, soon be startin' to smell like bacon...I'll put you here, close enough to carry on cookin' without fat drippin' onto the fire...There you go, that should do nicely."

The whole time that Sam was moving and talking Dean pointedly ignored him. Instead the older Hunter focused on everything else within his field of vision, determined that no damned werewolf would have the chance to get anywhere near his brother before it died.

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17  
**-oOo-

Following after the younger werewolf at a steady pace, it didn't take long for the male to arrive at the spot where the deer track crossed. A rapid glance ahead revealed no immediate sign of his hunting partner. The alpha continued further along the trail, following it's twists and turns at a greater speed than previously, eager to witness his protege making the kill. A few yards short of where the trail ended, the alpha ground to a halt. His heavy brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as he glared ahead and around. The female should be in view by now. This close to the lichen covered patch of open ground where the deer was likely to be, her pace should have slowed and she should be slinking and stalking the prey, hugging the ground with her body, stealthily making her way to the edge of the clearing. She should be pausing only long enough to gauge the distance between herself and the food animal before breaking cover in one mighty leap, aiming herself directly at the deer, killing it in a calculated and merciless attack..

That was what _should_ be. However, there were, no noises coming from a terrified and hopelessly struggling prey. No scent of the warm blood that should be gushing from the dead or dying animal. No sounds of a predator's greedy, wanton feeding on the warm corpse. No sound of the clash between predator and prey at all. Just the gentle sound of a relaxed and contented deer, blissfully munching on the plentiful lichen surrounding it.

Moving up from all fours on to it's hind legs, the alpha male stretched itself up to it's full, towering, height and gave reign to the deep rumble of a threatening and angry growl. The lone deer's head shot up and it promptly decided '_lichen be damned'._ Wasting no time, it spun around on the spot and darted out of the opposite side of clearing, bolting for safety deeper into the forest.

As the larger of the two werewolves the alpha male was heavier, his build so much more solid, his physique carried the greater muscle bulk and, as such, he had the greater physical strength, giving him the power necessary to bring down bigger prey. The female however, being of a comparatively slighter and lighter build, could move faster than the male, she was much more agile than the male and, set against the male's sheer brute force, she had the gift of stamina. Precocious, she was always prepared to take greater risks in order to satisfy her desires. The male had successfully lived and survived alone as a werewolf for years by learning to _not_ take risks unless absolutely necessary. Since the arrival of the female into his home and both sides of his life, he had become even less inclined to take risks and ignore potential dangers. In his human form, Joel feared doing anything which might increase both his own and his niece's chance of discovery. As Joel he couldn't, _wouldn't,_ let himself be responsible for placing Hope in greater danger than she seemed determined to put herself in. His niece was definitely challenging and frequently obnoxious, yet Joel had grown to care deeply for her. Rightly or wrongly, as her Uncle, Joel adored his young niece. When the change was on him, that care translated into the desire to protect her. Whether man or beast, he was constantly both saddened and embittered by his continual failure to get through to her.

Overhead, there was a small break within the otherwise seamless blanket of thick cloud cover. The position of that minor tear in the sky at last allowed the full moon to briefly become visible in all it's platinum beauty. Reaching upwards and throwing back his head, every other living creature within the area froze and was silent as the alpha howled in rapture at the glory that was his master. The howl that followed after it gave sound to the persistent sensations now plaguing the Alpha, sensations triggered by the wilful and headstrong young female he was responsible for, and who had yet again chosen to forgo the protection and watchful attention of her alpha in order to go her own way.

On nights like this, when the female struck out alone, it was her habit to return to the home she shared with the male no later than an hour before dawn, afraid as she was of transforming back to her human form while out in the open. That was when the male would meet up with her next. For now, as had happened on so many occasions previously, each werewolf continued their hunting in isolation, each of them now seeking out very different prey to the other.

Happy that both the campfire and the ham joint were safe, Sam turned to face the tent, still talking out loud.  
"Time for more coffee I think, if there's enough left in the flask."  
Without taking his eyes off their camping area, Dean fished behind himself with one hand until he felt the flask, holding it up for his brother. Sticking his head inside the tent above Dean, Sam took the flask from him,  
"Ah! There it is; an' even better, feels like there's still..."  
Dean quickly raised his hand again and urgently signalled Sam into silence. Sam's head withdrew from the tent and he straightened up, at the same time he reached for the dagger tucked into his belt. For a few minutes the brothers remained silent in their respective positions, both tuning in to the sounds of the night forest.

Eventually, Dean's hand reached out from the tent and patted Sam's ankle, giving his brother the 'all clear.' He smiled to himself when his younger sibling instantly returned to cheerfully talking aloud.  
"Oops! Forgot my mug."  
Sam's head reappeared inside the tent and his voice dropped to a soft whisper.  
"Well?"  
Dean shook his head and whispered back,  
"Maybe a howl, some way away? Not completely sure, had some jerk gabblin' crap in my ear."  
"Bitch, I'm just tryin' to be temptin' out here. What d'you want from me? A lecture on planetary movements?"  
Dean clamped his hand across his mouth to quell a snort of laughter.  
"You ready to change places yet?"  
Dean grimaced and nodded  
"Hell yeah, but don't expect me talkin' to myself like a dick, _I'm _temptin' enough just as I am."

During Sam's second stint as bait, the rain continued to ease up until, finally, it stopped. Without the dampening effect the rain had brought, Sam was able to encourage the campfire to burn a little hotter and more effectively. Inside their tent, Dean was kept amused by the sight of his younger brother gently steaming where he sat, the fire's heat beginning to work at drying out his jacket and denims.

Sam glanced down at his watch, he had another thirty minutes to go before he had to hand over his spot by the fire to Dean. The rustle of a tent flap caught his attention and Sam turned to see his scowling brother pull himself out of the tent far enough to get to his feet and stiffly stand upright, shrugging his shoulders loose before wandering over to the fire.  
"You're early"  
"Had enough lyin' on my gut an' anyway, the cherry pie's all gone. Move up. Lemme sit down, I'm cold an' my clothes're still soaked."

Well back, hunched down on the ground, hidden in the shadows of the trees, the monster watched in silence as the long haired human moved along the log he was sitting on. The second human, one with much shorter hair, seated himself alongside the first and held his hands out to the fire to warm them. The scent of the two human males mingled in with wood smoke and the strong smell of cooked meat. The werewolf displayed no interest in the cooked meat however, it's penetrating gaze remaining solidly fixed on the backs of the two humans.

-oOo-  
Chick :D xxx


	18. Chapter 18

_Hi! Don't suppose there's any fanfic folk based in **Galloway**  
__reading this is there? Drop me a PM if by some miracle there is :)  
_Also, I ask you to keep the lovely **ncsupnatfan**, who's currently  
recovering from a very nasty accident, in your thoughts  
**Chapter 18  
**-oOo-

"How's the ham doin'?"  
Sam shrugged.  
"I'd say it's way beyond well done, I think the cracklin's morphed into plate armour. Help yourself, but accept you're gonna lose teeth."  
Dean sighed.  
"You know, I'm thinkin' maybe us spendin' the night just sittin' around waitin' for some action is endin' up a bust."  
Sam gazed at his brother's profile.  
"You suggestin' we quit for the night?"  
"Not exactly. I'm suggestin' we kill the fire, head back to the car an' go into town, have a cruise round. If we set off soon I figure we'd hit town with a good hour at least before dawn breaks. How about it?"  
Sam stood up and used both hands to rub some feeling back into his numb backside.  
"Sure. Why not? You get the fire, I'll grab Phil's stuff."

The creature continued to watch while the short haired man chose a patch of wet, muddy soil and dug into it, loading his spade, returning to the fire and dumping the soil over the fire. Three loads had the fire smothered and out. The human lifted the branch skewering their meat by one end. After eyeing the blackened food carefully, he shrugged and tossed it, still skewered, away into the undergrowth. The longer haired human gave a short laugh.  
"Seriously? You were considerin' it?"  
"No, no way...C'mon, let's go make sure my baby's still ok.."

The werewolf remained where it was and watched the two humans walk out of the glade. The fresh scent of them grew fainter the further away from the area they moved, until all that was left were the older trace scents that clung to the parts of the area that they had walked on or touched, the log they had sat on, and the tent. Standing upright, the werewolf emerged out of the shadows and wandered into the centre of the glade. Puzzled by the behaviour of the humans, it's brow furrowed as it gazed around their camping area, seeing nothing other than the dead fire and the spade. The creature moved to the tent and dropped back onto all fours before sticking it's head inside. The scent of both humans was stronger in there and there were two sleeping bags spread on the groundsheet; lying on one of the bags was a couple of folded towels and a battery lamp. It was the things that _weren't_ in the tent that served to increase the werewolf's curiosity, primarily the lack of any food supplies or water. It looked like the tent and it's meagre contents had simply been abandoned by the two men.

Backing out of the tent, the werewolf wandered across the clearing, following the smell of the abandoned roast. Finding the charred offering, it prodded at it before abandoning it with a grunt of destain. The beast scanned the clearing again and the creature gave a low grumbling growl, the result of a flickering sense of disquiet in response to the humans' odd behaviour. Hyper-sensitive hearing picked up on the beginnings of a slow and subtle alteration within the sounds of the forest as the first of it's nocturnal life, the slower movers and the wildlife that roamed furthest during the dark hours, gradually began making their way back to whatever nests, burrows, mounds, tunnels, cavities and crevices they used as their retreat during daylight. At the same time, those hunters and scavengers who were generally the first to become active during the day had begun to grow more restless in their sleep as their inner body clocks began to anticipate the onset of dawn. As dark became light the clear, sharp, scents of the night would begin to gradually soften, turning into the more muted and varied warm scents of the day. Remaining on all fours the werewolf left the clearing and turned towards home, setting off at a trot to meet up with it's companion before dawn broke..

The Hunters travelled towards the township in silence, both appreciating the warmth inside the Impala. As they drew closer, Sam finally voiced the concern uppermost in both their minds.  
"Dean, what if there's been an attack in town while we've both been sat in the forest?"  
"I've been thinkin' pretty much the same thing. We know most of the recorded killings happened either in the forest or at the forest edge but, what if I chose wrong last night? An' then, because of that bad choice, somebody in town who we might've saved ended up bein' killed? All because of my crappy decision."  
"Woah Dean! Don't you dare go there. If anyone _has_ been killed in town, you won't own that. It'll be on _both _of us."  
"Whatever... Let's just hope we _weren't_ soakin' our backsides at the wrong place an' at the wrong time."

The black car cruised steadily through the outskirts of Grantsville, passing neat little houses, many in darkness, some showing a low level glow suggestive of night lights while others opted instead to leave an internal light on through the night, commonly either the bathroom or hallway. The car slowed almost to a halt, waiting while a white cat strolled unhurriedly across the road ahead of them. As it meandered past, the cat paused briefly, casting a disdainful glance at the Impala. Sam watched the cat wander a yard or so along the side-walk before it casually and gracefully hopped over a section of fence and vanished into somebody's back yard.  
"Well, if there's somethin' big an' fugly round here, I'd expect our Mr Cool Cat to be actin' _way_ more antsy an' pilin' on the speed."  
"Fine, I'll cut straight through to the town centre."

As the Impala went past an intersection, the lights on one of the darkened vehicles parked on the street fed by the intersection flicked into life, and the car began to move. Coming to the junction, it turned to follow the same direction the black muscle car had taken, adjusting it's speed to catch up with the Impala. The reflection of headlights and the repeated flashing of a red light drew Dean's attention to the rear view mirror. He slowed down further and began to pull into the roadside.  
"Company."  
The marked police car also pulled in, parking up behind the Impala. While the cop climbed out of his vehicle and strolled towards the drivers side of the Impala, Dean was already retrieving the fake ID he was currently using out from the glove compartment and winding down his window.

"You're out and about early sir...Sirs. Can I see some paperwork?"  
The man looked across Dean to Sam.  
"I'll need to see some ID from you too sir."  
Wearing a friendly smile, Dean flipped open and held up the FBI badge.  
"Is one of my lights out or something officer?"  
The cop read the name on the badge.  
"Ahh, Agent Foley! My apologies sir. The Sheriff did tell us you were in town helping to investigate our serial killer. And your companion is...?  
Sam leaned forward and reached across Dean, offering his hand to the cop, who duly shook it politely.  
"My name's Sam, Sam Halen, I'm just civilian, I'm here at Agent Foley's invitation."

Dean stepped in, wanting to distract the cop away from pressing for some ID from Sam.  
"Actually, Sam's a friend of mine an' he's somethin' of an expert tracker. I thought his skills might come in useful. So, how about an update? Have you guys had any action at all through the night?"  
The officer gave a small smile.  
"Thankfully, no Sir. We've got officers sited a various points throughout the town and, so far, it's all quiet."  
Dean nodded his understanding.  
"Let's hope it stays that way then an' that nothing happens between now and sunrise, eh?"  
"How about you and your friend, Agent? Found out anything new we can add to the investigation?"  
"Sorry my friend. I never like to give anythin' away unless I'm absolutely sure of my intel, don't like to let folk down if things don't pan out, you know? Tell you what though, you _could_ let the Sheriff know there's somethin' interestin' that I'm gonna be followin' up on tonight. If it comes to anythin'? I'll contact her first light tomorrow morning."  
The officer grinned, satisfied that he had information that his colleagues didn't.  
"I'll be sure and tell the Sheriff that for you sir. I'll radio your plate number to the other cars as well, then you won't keep on getting stopped Sir."  
Dean gave the man a broad smile.  
"That's real thoughtful of you officer, I appreciate it. You take care now an', stay safe."  
"You too. _Both_ of you."

Sam slumped back in his seat, relieved not to have had to try to produce some none existent ID, then just as quickly he sat upright again, asking his brother anxiously,  
"What if any of them decide to get nosey an' run a check on the plates? Are they gonna find anythin'?"  
"You mean other than it's not registered to either an Agent Foley or a Sam Halen? Nope, nothin', includin' no report of Baby bein' stolen, obviously. Don't worry Sammy. If one of 'em does get concerned about the car not bein' registered to Agent Foley it's simple. I say it's a pool car an' they can confirm it with my boss, then I give 'em Jody's number an' we just make certain one of us talks to her before _they_ do. Ok?"  
"Yeah, ok, great."

-oOo-  
Chick :D xxx  
Next chapter coming straight up


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19  
****-oOo-**

Phil hadn't slept well at all, what with the bad dreams he suffered when he did manage to fall asleep and then the frequent waking periods in between, during which he fretted about his two, newly designated favourite, guests. Finally having giving up on bed, he was sat in silence behind the reception desk, one elbow on the top of the desk, hand propping up his chin, his eyes half closed and a miserable expression on his face while his other hand pointlessly shuffled a mug half full of tepid coffee around and around. A loud commotion, the crash of metal accompanied by a stream of cusses startled him and made his whole body jump. The contents of his mug splattered over the registration book and his chin jolted off his hand, resulting in him poking himself in the eye. The door to the reception was shoved open and Dean strode in, carrying a knight's helmet under one arm. Walking behind him, doing his best not to laugh, came Sam.

Phil cringed internally when he heard himself virtually squeal with delight as he hurried out from behind the reception desk and rushed to greet the Hunters, arms already held out preparing to deliver a hug. Side stepping the manager's intention, Dean instead shoved the helmet at Phil who automatically took it from him.  
"Here you go. I tripped. Sorry."  
Phil beamed back at him.  
"Who cares? You're back, both of you, and you're both ok...You _are_ ok, aren't you?"  
Sam grinned.  
"We're fine. Well, Dean _was_, till he stubbed his toe trippin' over the suit of armour."  
Dean pouted.  
"I could've been concussed if that helmet hit me on the head when it dropped off!"  
Phil frowned down at the guilty helmet.  
"You're absolutely right Dean. I'll have it moved today."  
Dean instantly felt guilty and Phil was finally persuaded to leave the armour where it stood and let Dean fix the rogue helmet in place so it couldn't fall off again.  
"Is there anything I can do or get for you both? Anything at all?"  
Dean gazed at the man hopefully.  
"Breakfast before hittin' the sack would be awesome."  
The manager's face lit up.  
"_That _I can do. Breakfast for two coming right up. I'll see you in the restaurant."

Dean put his cutlery down on his empty plate and sat back, a happy man. He eyed Sam's soon to be empty plate hopefully.  
"Anythin' you can't manage bro', just pass it over."  
Sam shook his head, opened his mouth wide, and pointedly shoved the whole of his last hash brown into his mouth. Pushing his plate away, Sam sat back in his seat, unconsciously mirroring his brother's position. Having swallowed his food, Sam opened his mouth to speak and,instead, heard himself produce a totally unexpected record breaking burp. Sam's eyes opened wide in surprise, immediately throwing Dean into a fit of helpless, and infectious, laughter. Appearing at their table with with three coffees, Phil sat down while staring at the laughing Hunters in bemusement.  
"I truly don't understand how the two of you do it!...I mean, all the things you must have experienced, the amount of time you must each spend, over and over again, confronting evil and death, and yet here you both are, cheerful, chatty and clearly having a shared capacity for genuine laughter and fun. If all Hunters are anything like the two of you my friends; then you are all a very special group of people indeed!"

The brothers glanced at one another, a silent agreement passing between them. There was nothing to be gained by destroying the kindly manager's image of them. No point highlighting the frequent physical and emotional hurt, the repeated pattern of losing people they loved, family and friends, the constant battle to somehow keep going, to keep on fighting. There was no need to talk about how the lack of stability meant meeting someone, falling in love and having a 'normal' committed long term relationship was damn near impossible. No way either of them wanted Phil to know that, as with any community of people, there was both good and bad among them. And they certainly had no wish to highlight for Phil the final cost of being a Hunter; that near certainty that theirs would be a foreshortened life. Better to leave the man with an image of Hunters as a carefree band of cheery rogues and saviours, welcomed wherever they went.

Phil looked eagerly at the two Hunters.  
"So tell me. How was it last night? Did you see the...Um..._Werewolf_? Did you get it? Is it dead? Do they turn back into humans when they die like in the movies? What do you do with the bodies..._Oh_...That's terrible! There'll be a dead body..._Oh my God_! I hadn't really considered that. You poor souls! You have to kill something that's human most of the time! Someone who might be just lovely when they're not...You know..._Oh my_ _God!_ I'm sorry, truly sorry, um...ex...excuse me, I have to..."  
Suddenly pale, the manager scrambled clumsily to his feet and scurried out of the restaurant, heading hurriedly towards the hotel reception area with Sam and Dean gazing after him. Eyebrows raised, Sam turned back to his brother.  
"Well, that was different! You think one of us should go after him?"  
Dean shook his head.  
"Naah Sammy, give the man his privacy an' let him puke in peace. We need to talk about tonight, then I'm hittin' the sack."  
"Sound's good. So about tonight? Waitin' round in one spot hopin' to bait our target got us nowhere. According to that cop, everythin' in town had been quiet, an' we didn't see anythin' out the ordinary on the drive round. I figured there's options for the next two nights. For one, we could separate, try covering the forest _an' _the town It's doable. If you drop me off at the forest, you could drive on into town an' cover that angle."

Dean curled his top lip.  
"Yeah, that'd crossed my mind, and it'd widen the Hunt, _but_, if you were in trouble you'd be on your own. By the time I'd driven back, then trekked through the damn forest to find you, old pearly teeth would've had _plenty_ of time to play with his food. That'd be _you,_ in case you're wonderin'? Same goes if I needed _effective_ back up in town. How long would it take you to get outta the forest an' into town on foot? Sam, you know I'm not against us separatin' when we're on a job, but usually we're in vaguely the same location as one-another at least. You crashin' an' thrashin' through nature while I go all urban explorer? It's too far apart, _too _separated man."  
"Yeah, you're right...So, we've got two nights, unless we get lucky wherever we are tonight. Logic says we split them, town one night, back in the forest the other."  
Dean nodded while opening his mouth in a yawn so huge it made his eyes water. Sam grimaced.  
"Dude! Some kinda warnin' next time. I damn near got sucked in!"  
"Sorry. Ok, here's my thinkin'. We let the cops coverin' the town be our ears an' eyes there..."

"Dean! No. _They_ can't deal with a werewolf!"  
"How about lettin' me finish before gettin' your frilly knickers knotted up so tight they strangle you?"  
"Fine, go ahead, I'm all ears."  
"I'll contact the Sheriff, tell her we're gonna cover the forest again tonight an' give her one of our old phone numbers to pass round the patrols coverin' town. They see or hear any trouble, anythin' out the ordinary, she tells them to contact us an' we get there asap. I'll try askin' her to issue an order instructin' her officers to hold back till we get there, but I doubt she'll go for it. They're desperate for an arrest an' to end this thing. Even if she gives the order, if any one of them gets a possible perp. in their sights? No way they're gonna wait for some off the book FBI guy an' his pal, the hippy haired nature lover, to come racin' in to steal their thunder an' show them up by makin' the collar."  
Sam nodded his understanding.  
"Ok, that means we're just gonna have to hope we get back into town in time to reduce the damage...An' one more thing, jerk. I'm _not_ a 'hippy haired nature lover'."  
"Are so, bitch."  
"Whatever. Ok, we take the forest again. Only this time, I vote we both stay mobile."

Dean awoke early afternoon. For a while he simply lazed in his bed, the sound of his brother's soft snoring telling him Sam was still sleeping. His thoughts turned to their previous fruitless night spent in the forest where the only thing they came away with was his almost certain belief that he heard the howl of a wolf. Sitting around acting as bait was a tedious, but sometimes necessary, part of the job and Dean had never shied away from taking his turn at hanging round being tempting, despite it frequently causing him to feel more like the hunted than the Hunter. Tonight however, he and his brother intended to be on the move, doing what they did best. A grim and determined smile formed on Dean's face; tonight that flea bitten serial killer werewolf wouldn't be the only thing out there hunting and looking to bring something down.

-oOo-  
Chick :D xxx


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20  
**-oOo-

Bare footed and still wearing just his sleep joggers, Sam finally made his way down the spiral steps from his sleeping area. He found Dean sat on his bed where he was studiously cleaning, checking and re-sharpening their weaponry in readiness for the coming night's hunt. He glanced up at Sam's arrival.  
"Afternoon sunshine. You sleep ok?"  
"Um, yeah. You?"  
"Like a log. Coffee's fresh in the pot."

Sam headed toward the coffee supply, Dean's voice following him.  
"Good news. I've spoken to the Sheriff, she's gonna pass the number I gave her on to her officers an' instruct them to use it...I also got her to agree if her officers come across anythin' freaky they're not sure how to handle, they'll not make a move till we get there."  
Sam raised both eyebrows, surprised and impressed by Dean's powers of persuasion.  
"Wow! How'd you manage that?"  
Dean grinned.  
"Made use of your supposed animal expertise. Described _freaky_ as some pumped up exotic animal or anythin' that could be a new species. Figured that pretty much covered our mangy werewolf? Down side, she only agreed to it if there's no threat to her team or any civilians. Had to give her that one."  
"Still, good job. It's better than we expected, an' it means her crew's not only gonna be lookin' out for a _human _maniac."

Her nakedness hidden under a blanket, Hope headed from the lounge back to her room. As always the kitchen door was closed to allow her to pass by unseen. The sound of pots and pans rattling came from within the kitchen and, as she drew level with the door Hope paused, staring at the wooden barrier between herself and her uncle. She was about to move on when there was the brief clatter of a dropped item of cutlery. For a moment or two there was silence, then she heard Joel's voice.  
"Hope? Are you ok? What is it? Are you hurt?...Hope?"

Her temptation was to say nothing, carry on to her bedroom, leaving Joel talking to himself. Instead, clearing her throat, she forced herself to answer her uncle through the door.  
"No, not hurt...Just lettin' you know, I'm gonna be leavin' right after this full moon period."  
Hope's words surprised even herself. Until saying it out loud she'd not had any serious thoughts about leaving the security of her home any time soon but, once voiced, it immediately felt right to her. It _was_ time to look towards moving out and moving on. _Time to become a lone wolf._ Hope smiled to herself at the analogy and, without waiting for her uncle to recover from his stunned silence, she hurried back to her room, eager to start preparing for a possible new and independent, life.

Shaking with shock, Joel felt his lips curl back and he heard himself snarl. Moving to the kitchen table, he sat down and, for a while, kept his focus on taking deep breaths to calm himself down and to unscramble the tossed salad of thoughts tumbling through his mind; the loudest of which was _Nonononono!_

Putting down a freshly sharpened silver dagger, Dean stood up from his bed and stretched his back, wincing at the vague popping, clunking sounds the movement caused. Sam raised an eyebrow.  
"Kinda sound like you need oiling there dude."  
Dean scowled at the younger Hunter.  
"My mattress' is too soft is all. I'm gonna go check in on Phil while you try to remember how to dress yourself. See you down there?"  
Sam raised his coffee mug in acknowledgement.  
"Will do. Hey, Dean? You sure you can manage all those stairs on your own?"  
Dean gave his brother the finger as he closed the apartment door behind him.

Instead of the hotel manager there was a young woman who Dean hadn't seen before sat behind the reception desk. Head down, busy on a laptop, she didn't notice Dean approaching.  
"Excuse me?"  
Startled, the woman's head shot up and she clapped one hand over her heart area.  
"_Oh f._..Flowers! You scared the living _sugar_ out of me!"  
Grinning, Dean automatically checked her out. With a glossy dark brunette chin length bob, a heart shaped face and blue eyes that stared up at him from behind black framed glasses she looked to be in her mid to late twenties and, while the rest of her face was definitely pretty to look at, it was her perfect bow shaped lips that captured most of Dean's attention. They were the kind of lips that were made for soft, lingering kisses and Dean could easily envisage himself happily occupied providing them. The woman's voice, calmer now, cut into his daydream.  
"Can I help you with something sir?...Sir?"

Dean pulled himself together.  
"Um, yeah...I was lookin' for Phil, um...The manager? I was hopin' to have a quick word with him."  
"The manager isn't on duty right now sir but, if there's anything you need, I'm sure I can help. Which room are you in? Is there a problem of some kind?"  
Dean glanced at the woman's name badge.  
"No, no problem...Ava. Me an' my colleague are in suite one in the tower an' everythin's fine. The manager's a friend an' he wasn't feelin' so good early this mornin'. I just wanted to check if he's ok now?"

After a quick glance at the laptop, Ava stood up smiling and held her hand out to Dean.  
"Pleased to meet you. Mr Duncan said he had special guests staying, Mr Cooper and Mr Halen?"  
Dean shook Ava's hand.  
"That's us. I'm Cooper but, _please,_ call me Dean."  
"Very well, Dean. Mr Duncan has gone into town, I can tell him you were looking for him when he gets back?"  
"He's comin' back? Right, I assumed today must be his day off."  
Ava nodded her head yes.  
"It is, but I imagine he'll come back to his apartment here once he's done in town."  
Dean just managed to cover his surprise at hearing the hotel manager lived on site.  
"Oh, sure, course he will. Um, let him know we asked if he was any better?"  
Ava's hypnotic lips parted, forming themselves into a bright smile.  
"Of course, _Dean_. Have a nice day."  
"Yeah, um, you too Ava."

The door into the small reception area at the sheriff's department opened to allow someone to enter who quietly took a seat in the waiting area. The desk sergeant kept her focus on the elderly woman standing in front of her.  
"Ok Mrs Weinstein, I'll tell the officers on duty to keep a look out for Snowy, _again_. You know, I keep telling you, if you got that cat of yours 'done', he'd stop running all round town chasing after those lady cats. Think about it Mrs Weinstein? Please?"  
The desk sergeant watched old Mrs Weinstein leave before turning to her waiting customer.  
"Mr Duncan, hi! What can I do for _you_ today?"

Phil stood and approached the reception counter.  
"Hello Laura. I'd like to see the Sheriff' if she's not too busy?"  
Laura giggled.  
"She's _always_ busy, you know that! Is there anything_ I _can help with?"  
"I wish you could sweetie, but I really need to talk to the Sheriff. It's about the killings."  
Laura lost her smile along with her relaxed attitude, astute eyes stared into the hotel manager's.  
"You've got something new! Please, take a seat Mr Duncan. I'll interrupt the Sheriff and let her know you need to speak to her urgently. I believe she'll want to see you straight away.  
Suddenly looking nervous, Phil nodded.  
"Thank you Laura."

-oOo-  
Chick :D xxx


End file.
